


Wallflower

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Archie Comics
Genre: Angst, Archie is a Cheater, Beggie, Betty Cooper needs a hug, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, High School, Oral, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2729873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betty gets tired of playing second fiddle to Veronica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Archie & Co, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

“Stand still, dear,” Mrs. Cooper murmured around a mouthful of pins as she expertly pinchd and tweaked the slippery hem into place, smoothing out the puckers. Betty felt a frisson of excitement ripple through her stomach and shiver its way up her spine. Her palms skimmed over her abdomen, stroking the shimmering chiffon, smiling sheepishly at her mother’s impatient look. Mrs. Cooper smothered a groan at her daughter’s fidgeting.

“Mmph…I’ll never get this hem taken up if you don’t stop wriggling, sweetheart, stand still!”

“Sorry, Mom,” she murmured. Despite her warnings, Mrs. Cooper continued to tuck and pin her way around the long, gently flared skirt. The room was warm enough for comfort as mother and daughter labored over the fitting of a project that lasted six weeks of stolen Saturdays normally allotted for Alice’s league night at the Riverdale Lanes and Betty’s karate classes and booster club bake sales.

Mrs. Cooper leaned back on her haunches and sighed with satisfaction, admiring their work. “Beautiful. It’s perfect on you, Betty! You have such an eye for color, you need to start doing this for a living! This will be your bread and butter one day, just wait.” She reached out and tweaked the folds of the skirt, and Betty swished it around, padding in her bare feet to the full-length mirror. Her eyes glistened as she held the skirt out, spreading it and then letting it drop.

:I love it,” she gusted, turning back to her mother and rushing over to fling her arms around her neck. Puckery, smoochy kisses found their way to Mrs. Cooper’s round cheek. “Thank you, thank you!” Mrs. Cooper smiled as Betty released her before packing the scissors into her sewing box.

“Now we just need shoes.”

“I already put a deposit on a pair at Miss Bertie’s boutique. I took her a fabric swatch last week.” Betty dutifully stepped out of the garment and handed it gingerly to her mother so as not to disturb the hem.

“Sounds like you have everything, then.”

“Just about.” Betty felt that familiar creeping sense of guilt washing over her again.

Everything but the boy. She still didn’t have a date.

Betty changed back into her beat-up Dickie’s jeans, red Keds, and a navy and white baseball tee with the Riverdale High school crest before heading downstairs. Her father rustled the paper from his favorite recliner, peering out from it as she trotted into the kitchen for her denim jacket.

“Where are you headed, kitten?”

“I have to stop at Ronnie’s before I go to campus. We’re building the arch tonight in the gym.”

“Be back by curfew,” he reminded her.

“I know, Daddy,” she chided him, taking the sting from it by prying aside his paper and kissing the top of his head. “Love you.”

“Love you, kitten.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and pressed them into her palm. She skipped out the door and backed the sedan out of the driveway.

Mrs. Cooper came downstairs and sat on the arm of his recliner, reaching out to knead his neck. His voice rumbled out in contentment as he leaned into her caress. Warm blue eyes creased with faint laugh lines smiled up at her in the way she loved before he reached for her hand, kissing her fingers.

“She doesn’t have a date yet, does she?”

“Nope.”

“Shit.”

“HAL!” She smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

“She’s holding out for that Andrews boy, isn’t she?”

“Mmm.” She knew a bit about waiting in the wings, once upon a time.

“Fred Andrews was always such a stand-up guy when we were in school,” he muttered, tsking and retreating back into his sports section. “How did he manage to raise such a lugnut?”

“He’s not so bad,” she argued faintly, as she perused the contents of the freezer. She selected a family-size package of skinless chicken breasts and inserted them into the microwave, hitting the thaw button. It thrummed to life as she extracted rice and other ingredients from the well-stocked pantry.

“He’s not so great,” he corrected her. “He’s nice, granted. He even ‘means well;’ I just hate watching him string my little girl along like that. She’s wasting her time on him.”

“It takes two to tango,” she sighed. “I have no doubt in my mind that he loves the attention. “He’s treat her better if she didn’t het him get away with it. She’s eighteen, sweetheart; we can’t just pick and choose who she dates. It wouldn’t hurt to play the field a little, though. I keep telling her that…As long as she isn’t bringing home someone with a pierced septum, green hair, or a tattoo that says ‘Mom’ across his chest, who are we to complain?” She started a pot of rice and began chopping a crown of broccoli into florets. 

“We’re her parents. Guess that doesn’t mean much?” he deadpanned. “Earth to Alice? He’s always late. He lets her dangle until the last minute. The overage on her wireless bill is killing me, since she always calls him on his landline. I don’t know why she bothers; if he’s keeping his phone turned off, who is he spending his time with?”

“More than likely that Lodge girl. The pretty, shallow one she used to follow like a puppy in kindergarten.” Alice knew they were still friends. She’d come across enough of Veronica’s borrowed clothing in the wash and occasionally makeup in darker colors in Betty’s vanity that she didn’t recognize. She’d protested, however, when she discovered the issues of “Cosmopolitan” in her backpack. Lord help them all…she didn’t raise a Sunday-schooled Girl Scout and honor student just to watch her lap up bad advice from trendy rags, such as “Learn How to Drive Your Man REALLY Crazy in Bed, Using these Ten Simple Hints.”

Twenty years of marriage had taught Alice that nothing about love and sex was simple. She wouldn’t let her daughter gather that ridiculous assumption and rot her quick mind with that nonsense, and the magazine had gone back out the door to Veronica the next morning after a lecture about “why you don’t want boys to only like you for your body.” Betty hadn’t been able to stomach walking past the glossy covers in the pharmacy racks since.

“Iccchh…that little snot that made her cry on picture day just because she had her hair in pigtails instead of those stupid ribbon barrettes that were so popular back then?”

“That was my fault,” Alice admitted. “Betty asked me to finish making them especially for that day, but Aunt Ruth called the night before, wondering if we had gotten that blue velvet dress she sent for her birthday. She nagged me endlessly, ‘Alice, you just HAVE to braid her hair into pigtails to wear with that dress, or it won’t be the same!’”

“She pouted like Donald Duck in that that photo,” Hal chuckled. That didn’t stop it from being one of his favorites. “All I remember was Betty dragging her feet in her good shoes up the front walk, whining ‘Veronica had the hair pretties with the red ribbons, andher NAME on them, and I didn’t have my BLUE ones, and this was the worst picture day EVER!’” Hal mimicked, his own face painted in mock, girlish anguish. Alice reached over and swatted him again. “Veronica Lodge is just so flighty, and seems so spoiled.”

“We can’t pick her friends.”

“Maybe not,” he muttered. “Back in my day, though, you didn’t bring home just any old friends to your parents. And definitely not any old boyfriend.”

“He’s not ‘any old boyfriend,’ Hal,” she sighed. “Maybe then this wouldn’t have gone on so long.” Namely since grade school.

“If he hurts her, Alice, I’m going to Fred’s with a baseball bat.”

“That’s pushing it,” she pointed out. “My old broomstick, on the other hand, would work fine.”

“I never treated you like that when we were going out. No guessing games, no watching cobwebs growing on the phone…”

“Bullshit, Hal. We both know you married me for my boobs and my meatloaf.” They exchanged a look; then Hal flashed his teeth and growled at her with transparent intent. Alice giggled.


	2. Back Down to the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty tries to get a certain redhead's attention.

Riverdale High, campus metal shop, first floor:

“Jug, can you pass me those safety goggles, please?” Betty finished tugging on the thick work gloves, mentally slapping herself for volunteering to help Mister Svenson in constructing the arch that would be the centerpiece of the gym as students made their way inside. She adored her shop teacher. She believed in the project. No problems there.

Meanwhile, here she was, draped head to tow in the heavy apron, elbow-length gloves and enough grime and dirt to leave her clothes, hair (tucked under a borrowed baseball cap) and skin a lost cause. They’d made a lot of progress with the arch. Too bad she had little more to show for it than getting filthy, and covering her entire outfit with the safety gear that had seen better days. She caught her reflection coming through the glass-paned door of the classroom on her way back from the gym. She was a shapeless mess.

Where was Ronnie? In the gym, pretending to help with the posters and nagging the prom committee in the guise of “delegating.”

Where was Archie? Pretending to give a damn about the prom decorations and “helping” Veronica choose magic markers, finding excuses to tickle her and touch her that were sooooooooooooooooo unnecessary.

And where was Betty? Sequestered away in the “dungeon” toiling away like someone’s unwicked stepsister.

“This blows balls,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Jughead inquired over the buzz and smoke of the soldering iron as they joined two pieces of iron strips in the lattice they were constructing. Blue sparks flew erratically in the comfortably warm classroom, dancing in the sunbeams shining in from outside.

“Nothing,” she recovered absently.

“Oh. ‘Kay.” He studied her through the visor of the safety mask, staring askance at her with those intelligent, narrow brown eyes. “Couldn’t sworn you said ‘This blows balls,’ which wouldn’t be completely inaccurate. Moose was supposed to be in here doing this.”

“I know. Midge took him to that ballroom dancing class.”

“Midge has too much time on her hands and a twisted sense of humor. Still don’t know what those two see in each other,” he continued, shaking his head.

“Chemistry,” she offered. 

“Glands,” he corrected her. “Don’t ever call it anything else. He’s just so…well, screw it, he’s big and dumb as a plank, and she’s a skank.”

“Poet and didn’t know it,” she shot back, retrieving a tuft of steel wool to begin sanding the section they’d already finished. “She’s not that bad.”

“Sure. Just follow the line of guys that got their ass kicked, they oughta agree with you in spades…she KNOWS how he reacts, but there she goes, letting guys ask her out, giving out her number like she just ‘doesn’t know why these guys keep hounding me, I have a boyfriend, for God’s sake, why won’t they leave me alone?”

“Forbidden fruit. Makes her feel pretty.”

“Pfft. Please,” he sneered. He nodded at her. “You don’t do that.”

“It’s not my thing.”

“You’re, like, nice. You don’t play that silly game shit, you actually call guys back…speaking of which, what’s the deal? You and Arch going to the big night?”

“I don’t know. Ask him.”

“No, YOU ask him! C’mon, you know you want to,” he urged, turning off the torch and powering off the gas.

“Shame on you, Jughead! Don’t you know my heart already belongs to someone else?” She knelt down on one knee, flinging one arm wide and planting her palm over her heart, allowing her bosom to heave with emphasis, “Forsythe P Jones, most eligible bachelor, dog aficionado, taste tester, and chess champion, will you do this miserable wretch the honor of escorting me to yon dance? I pray thee, kind sir, say me yea, not nay, forsooth!”

“Gads…get UP!” Jughead was already relieving himself of the mask and laying it aside. His narrow chest quaked with laughter. “I don’t do proms. You’ll get me in a tux and smiling for overpriced couples pictures when Hell freezes over.”

“Please?” she mock-begged. Her stomach was already churning for what she knew was next, in the near future.

“Nay,” he proclaimed, grabbing her by the elbow and hoisting her up.

“Hmmmph.”

“Goofball,” he grinned sagely, giving her that funny look that Ethel swore turned her to butter, even though she was seldom its target. “Seriously, though. Ask him. What have you got to lose?”

“It’s called dignity. Juggie, we’re talking ugly if I end up asking him, which looks like begging, and if I walk away with that “D’OH!” feeling of ‘why did I make a complete ass of myself, he’s TOTALLY asking Ronnie, and my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.”

“So? Guys do that all the time.”

“Liar. They don’t get embarrassed. You guys burp and fart out loud, walk around scratching your balls, pick your nose, and act like the sun doesn’t set on your butts because you’re so cool.”

“Join in any time…” he sighed.

“Grow me some balls first. Big ones.” Jughead’s shoulders shook and he nearly choked on the stick of Wrigley’s gum he pulled out of his pocket. 

“Want some?”

“Nah.” She reached for her own pack of Listerine Breath Saver strips after she finished washing her hands. She put away the gloves and hung up the smock. “I’m done here.”

“Movie later?” Jughead and Betty held DVD-a-thons every free weekend that she had.

“We’ll see. If I walk back out to my car by myself, looking like someone ran over my cat, you’ll know what my answer was to the prom question.”

“You’ll live. You rock.” He held up his hand for a high five that turned into their typical soul brother grapple, and Jughead surprised her by catching her wrist and enveloping her in a hug that resembled a headlock. A sloppy, loud kiss made it’s way behind her ear.

“EWWWWWWW! Leggo!” She retaliated with jabbing him in the ribs.

“You love me,” he insisted, giving her his best puppy dog face, which he’d had years to practice under the tutelage of Hot Dog, his seven-year-old sheepdog/terrier mix.

“I’d love you more if you weren’t pushing me into this. Stop me, please! One last chance…” She let her voice dwindle. He shook his head again.

“Uh-uh. Go get that man. Chop, chop!” He cast his arm wide in a flinging gesture. “Amscray!”

“Grrrrrrrr…this is SO gonna suck.”

She dragged her way to the gym as Jughead detoured to the candy machine, hearing the last of his encouragement drift back through the hall the further away she trod. She could already hear the echo of music in the gymnasium and see posters littering the floors. The prom was in a week, so the extra sets of unused bleachers were camouflaged in brown postal wrap; Nancy was putting the finishing touches on a mural that she and Chuck drew, daubing with a paint-laden sponge. A few of the committee members waved to Betty, chirping out hellos and rolling their eyes at Veronica, who was currently making a spectacle of herself on the ladder, hanging the disco ball. 

Betty’s stomach clenched when she noticed who was standing behind her on the lift, steadying her as she anchored the ball. Archie’s hands were possessive around her waist as he whispered something in her ear.

She wanted to hate them both. She never quite could.

Veronica was her oldest friend. One could debate that she was her BEST friend, but definitely the oldest. If she needed to borrow something hot for a party, Ronnie was her girl. Trade juicy gossip over lattes? Ronnie. Get an honest opinion while they were shopping for shoes? Ronnie. Talk candidly about sex?...well, same deal. Somewhat candidly, anyway. Betty never remembered hearing how far Ronnie DID go, so much as how far she DIDN’T.

Ronnie had taught Betty about having standards. “I won’t put out unless a guy has spent at least fifty bucks on dinner. I don’t care about the food, just the thought.” Didn’t matter that her daddy was rich. Didn’t matter that she enjoyed constant retail therapy. It was just, as she put it, “the thought.” With rare exceptions, Ronnie actually hadn’t done the deed but once or twice. Not because she didn’t want to. Not because her parents told her no, which they certainly had.

Just because she couldn’t be bothered unless it was worth the payoff.

“If you put out every time, Betty, guys’ll just get the milk for free. Why wear out a perfectly good pussy when you can keep it sweet and fresh for someone who will make an effort?” That had been their last sleepover. Betty had turned up the music uncharacteristically loud in their family room in the basement for fear her mother would hear. Ronnie had worn babydolls to bed, despite Betty’s nervousness that her parents would frown on it, then grudgingly put on hers, too, while they indulged in Oreos, facepacks, and manicures in front of Dawson’s Creek reruns. “I don’t go downtown, either. Make a guy work for it, not you!”

“Guys like it,” Betty reasoned.

“Not enough for me to get down on my knees. For anyone,” she jabbed, unscrewing the bottle of blood-red polish and painting her big toe.

“I want a guy to want to come back to me. To like me for me, without having to guess if I ruined it all or did something wrong.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Ronnie stated flatly. “Hand me a cookie?”

That brought them to this. Same cat-and-mouse, different day. Betty wanted Archie. Ronnie had Archie. Ronnie dangled Archie and went after the next big wallet. Ronnie dumped Archie. Archie dangled Betty within fingertips’ reach, then accused her of playing games when she wouldn’t give it up. Games. 

Her.

His lips fit hers just right, something she’d always known that night that he’d kissed her at the freshman mixer. She’d handed him the ladle to the punch bowl. He stared out at the dance floor while Veronica had snuggled up to Jason Blossom, that transfer student from Central City. His hands were all over her ass, prompting frequent taps from the chaperones. Archie turned to Betty, eyeing her up and down, taking in the short denim skirt and snug little long-sleeved tee with the Happy Bunny logo on it.

“Punch?” she offered.

“Nah,” he replied, setting down his cup. Her heart sank until he reached for her cup and set it, too, down on the table before she was finished. His fingers were warm around her wrist. “Dance?”

Shit.

Her stomach dropped into her shoes, and butterflies took flight in her chest. “S-sure, Arch.” She fought against clinging too closely to him as they wended and wove their way through the crowd, silently seeking the center of the floor, but his grip tightened on her hand, and he surprised her again by lacing their fingers together more intimately. They ended up in the lone, unoccupied space on the gym floor, dancers swirling slowly around them in lazy, awkward pairs. They ended up bathed in the spotlight, and Betty initially had a hard time meeting his eyes. She felt the other dancers settle around them, giving them room, and she finally eased her arms up around his neck, embracing him loosely as his palms crept up to her slender waist. Her heart stuttered and dipped, and she thought she would be sick. She regretted the punch. She regretted her outfit, her hair, her inability to say anything intelligent, now that there were no sports uniforms, concession counters, bikes, baseball gloves, bowling balls, lunch lines or other helpful distractions giving her a platform to talk to him.

He smelled good. Damned good.

She did the unthinkable. She let her mouth run away with itself.

“Hi,” she stammered shyly. He grinned back.

“Hi, Bets.” He shrugged, and they fell into step with little effort. “Having fun?”

“Sure,” she agreed.

“I don’t know if I am,” he confessed. She felt him fiddle with her belt loop on her skirt, and she was conscious of them growing slightly closer, narrowing the gap between them until the placket of his jeans was nearly brushing her belly.

“Why, Arch?”

“The music’s okay,” he admitted. “It’s a dance. You’ve heard one Ben Folds Five song, you’ve heard ‘em all.”

“I have all their CDs, so I guess I have,” she winced, lightly slapping his shoulder when he threw back his head and laughed.

“I just expected more out of this than…this. Here we are, at Riverdale High. A dance. New school. New kids. New gym. And we get Hi-C, balloons, bleachers, and everyone running back like cattle whenever they play any song where you have to get up and dance like everyone else.”

“Guilty,” she whimpered, raising hand before replacing it on his shoulder. She’d done her share of the Macarena and the electric slide that night. He felt hot, and they continued to tip closer. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ronnie toss back her head and laugh, and she caught Betty’s attention. Betty marinated in the smug look she gave and cringed when she winked knowingly, as if to say “Go ahead. Give him a try. Been there, done that.” She then ignored Betty and allowed Jason to gnaw on her neck.

“Something on your mind?” Archie’s voice brought her back. She faced him again, watching her reflection in his crystal blue eyes. His wavy red hair was longer lately; he wore it like a boarder punk, and kept his sideburns short. A lock of it flopped into his eyes, and before she could stop herself she reached up to tuck it behind his ear.

“It’s…no. Nothing. Why? Something on yours?”

“Maybe,” he hinted, and she felt his hands tighten on her waist, exploring the shape of her curves before they traveled to her hips.

“What, may I ask?”

“What you taste like,” he murmured, and he closed that remaining space between them, ducking his head and ever so gently batting her nose with the tip of his. It had the desired result. Her eyes searched his and took in their thoughtful droop and the heat there. He steamed her lips with his breath, and coaxed her to tilt her head up, kissing her so sweetly she thought she would go up in flames. Their lips parted, then brushed again, deepening and drawing it out, again and again, until his tongue teased her lower lip. She opened for him, and his swept inside, exploring the moist texture of her mouth, swirling around hers, dominating it. She released a tiny moan, low in her throat, and felt her hands tunneling through the back of his thick hair.

She didn’t realize how she’d practically been climbing him like a tree, trying to get as close to him as she could, until Miss Grundy rapped her on the shoulder, shaking her head with disapproval at them and beckoning them to move back from each other. She welcomed the chance to draw a full breath. When she turned back to Archie, his eyes were full of questions, too, even though he’d answered the one he’d raised.

“Damn,” he muttered, settling for hugging her to him and letting her loll her chin blissfully over his shoulder.

“Wow,” she breathed.

They danced all night. He kissed her before she was due to meet her parents outside. He promised to call her.

He never did.

Around and around they went, week after week. Ronnie outwardly agreed it would be fine, and no, it wasn’t too much if she left notes in his locker. Betty didn’t realize why until she went with her mother to the grocery store to pick up some butter for the baked goods they were working on for the PTA. Archie had begged off their movie date. He didn’t see her when he dashed into the store to get a pack of gum and had run back out to his car. 

She recognized Ronnie in the passenger seat. Alice asked her why she was scowling like a sourpuss. “I’m not,” she insisted, packing their butter into a sack and ducking into the lot before Alice could count her change. They were gone. Betty felt like a schmuck.

So, she left herself open. Not her options. Her calendar. Betty went on the occasional “date.” Mini-golf. Bowling, which she loved. Pity dates that her dad set her up on with the sons of his friends, none whom she would ever go out with again.

They weren’t Archie. Jughead earned himself a firm pinch when he called her cock-whipped.

“It’s not like that.”  
“You want it to be, though?”  
“Oh, God, yes!”  
“Gads, Betty, TMI! You took me to a bad mental place!”

So, here they were. Betty was dirty and mussed, and Veronica was on top of the ladder letting everyone see her ass in her short, short shorts. 

“Bloody great,” she carped under her breath.

“I’m about ready to put the hurt on her. She didn’t do shit,” Nancy replied, handing Betty the paint water jar and dunking the brush she was holding in it, creating murky blue swirls in the liquid. “Where have you been, chica?”

“Slaving away on the arch.”

“Bless your heart! Does it look awesome?”

“Yup!” Nancy squealed and gave her a one-armed hug, steering her around to glance at the posters.

“I made those,” she bragged.

“They look great.” Betty scanned the gym. “Where’s Mister Wonderful?”

“Chuck had to run an errand for his dad and pick up a new set of bases from the sports shop. Left me high and dry.”

“You’ll live. I’ll vouch for you that you behaved,” Betty assured her. Nancy was mussed, too, but still had perfect hair, plaited into tiny, neat cornrows down her back. Faint splotches of craft paint marred her fingers, but her jeans and tee were still neat. She wore the purple twin to Betty’s Keds on her feet, but hers were handpainted with tiny daisies. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and still managed to look fresh and pretty, reasoning that Chuck hated it when she wore lipstick.

“Did you finish that dress?”

“Yup.”

“Got everything else yet?”

“Yup.”

“Gotta date?”

“Of course not,” she sighed.

“Girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrllll…why are you doing this to yourself? You’re so cute, nice, and deserve better than that…whatever that is goin’ on up there,” she snarled, waving her hand up the scaffold at Archie and Veronica as they flirted on, mindless of the fact that they already finished their task. “What’re you gonna do, pine away from him, and then if he doesn’t ask, just stay home and count the ceiling tile?”

“Of course not,” she repeated, this time resigned. “Jughead already decided he isn’t going to be my backup, the turd.”

“So you wouldn’t go with anyone else?” Nancy prodded. “Even if they asked?”

“Don’t fix me up, please,” Betty pleaded. “That’s my dad’s job. Gads, I hate my life. The last one told me I was almost as pretty as his ex-girlfriend but a better cook.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, though…why not think outside the box? There’s plenty of guys that don’t have a date, who might like to go.”

“None that I want to go with, or know that well.”

“You’re thinking about Juggie. Don’t bark up that tree. How about someone you can go as a friend with? Frankie?”

“He’s going with Maria.”

“Dilton?”

“Cricket’s already snapped him up; I saw them picking out cummerbunds and ties yesterday at the mall.”

“Jinx?”

“Gah! My dress isn’t washable, that wouldn’t work, Nance.”

“Okay…hmm…you’er making this hard.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“Well, how about Reggie?”

“Wait, I think I have something in my ear,” she grimaced, making a show of unplugging it with her pinkie. “Reggie Mantle?”

“Uh-huh.” Nancy folded her arms and shifted her weight onto her hip.

“Reggie who used to pull my hair in kindergarten and call me a goodie-goodie?”

“That’s the one. Used to, now. Remember that.”

“Nancy…eeeww.”

“What’s this ‘eeeww?’ Don’t give me that. He’s good-looking. He has a nice car. And I have it on good authority he doesn’t have a date yet.”

“Bullshit,” she huffed.

“S’true. He doesn’t.” 

“Okay. That leaves the question, Why?”

“Last minute thing. He was gonna take Cheryl Blossom. She toyed around with him and this other guy who asked her the day after, then decided that the other guy had a better car.”

“So he can scoop up some other girl. There’s plenty of ‘em waiting in the wings.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” Nancy peered over Betty’s shoulder and smiled broadly, showing perfect white teeth. “Why don’t you go ask him?” Betty spun around, nearly biting her tongue. “He’s here.”

“Oh, crap…” She was mortified. As though he had heard his name, Reggie turned from where he was setting down some camera equipment and waved over to them, smiling briefly, and in Betty’s mind, without much warmth. He seemed distracted; she followed his eyes back to the scaffold.

Veronica was snuggled up to Archie. Betty wanted to vomit.

“Again, what have you got to lose?”

“My lunch.”

“Attagirl.” Nancy checked her watch. “You’re gonna get up and ask somebody, Betty Bear, clock’s tick-tick-tickin’, y’hear?”

“Gads…”

“Go!”

“Not Reggie,” Betty whispered sharply.

“Fine. But get ready to be disappointed if you’re expecting Tall, Redheaded and Clueless to step up.”

“I’m waiting for him to step down,” she reminded her, smiling as they descended the ladder. Veronica skipped down to the ground and squealed when she saw Betty with Nancy.

“I’ve been waiting for you, where the hell have you been, you brat? Make me wait all day,” she pouted, leaning in for a one-armed hug around Betty’s shoulders and a slurpy-sounding air kiss. Betty snickered as Ronnie rocked the two of them back and forth as they surveyed the gym. “Not bad, if I do say so myself, and I do!”

“Stand-up work,” Nancy snarled under her breath. Betty rolled her eyes as her to stop. 

“Betty, I’m headed home, I promised my mom I’d get home in time to help serve her bridge club at six. When are you going to get your shoes?”

“Tonight,” she replied, nodding to Archie as he wheeled the scaffold back to the supply closet. Nancy was right. He was clueless, or he just didn’t give a damn. Then she remembered her dirty dungarees and tee. Shit. She looked like someone’s cousin Boo.

“Betty!” Ronnie whined. “That sucks! I wasn’t going to get mine until tomorrow, I wanted us to go together. Actually…why don’t you just kill two birds with one stone?”

“Which birds would those be?”

“Pick up my shoes?”

“Why don’t you just get them tomorrow?”

“I can’t get away tonight,” she continued, picking at her nail and smiling shyly at Betty, tone cajoling and full of syrup. “C’mon, you know you want to help me. Pretty please, with sugar on top?”

Betty rolled her eyes. Nancy made her best Donald Duck pout behind Ronnie’s back.

“Fine,” she huffed, voice heavy and resigned.

“MMM-WAH!!!” Loud, smoochy kiss. Insincere little dance. More pouting and eye-rolling from Nancy behind her. “I love you, you know that!”

“Oh, I feel loved,” Betty agreed, smiling despite herself. 

“Call me when you get back, maybe you can drop them off, I want to model them with the dress for you so you can tell me what you think.”

“I’ll bring my phone so we can take pics.” Ronnie was already scuttling off, ignoring them once she caught sight of Reggie. He was attired casually in jeans like everyone else, but the labels were beyond the reach of most of their pockets; a red and white Hilfiger logo winked out from his hip pocket when he bent to adjust the light stands and test the exposure of that side of the gym. Ronnie came up to him and began flirting shamelessly. Betty scanned the gym for Archie. 

He was nowhere to be found. Her heart hitched.

She turned back to Reggie and made her way over, just to be polite. She didn’t know why.

Veronica was keeping him rapt and captive, which he didn’t seem to have a problem with, if the way he was hanging on her words indicated anything. She toyed with her long black hair and gave him “The Eye,” a look that she’d perfected by seventh grade and used to its fullest benefit since. He tucked his hands into his pockets and let his eyes roam over her, taking in the brief shorts and halter top that wouldn’t be appropriate during regular school hours. Veronica was a vision in red and white, from her porcelain skin to her scarlet-painted lips and nails. Dimples winked in and out of her cheeks as she sized him up with her coffee brown eyes. If Betty could envy one thing about Ronnie, it was watching her work a room. She was gifted.

“Reggie, dahling,” she teased, drawing out the syllable. “What brings you here to grace these mere peasants this fine day?” She didn’t include herself with the masses.

“My pop begged me to help him with his stuff. He’s taking the pictures this year at a discount. He went to high school with the ‘Bee. They’re real thick.” Betty rolled her eyes silently.

“You made him beg, eh?” she accused him, finally announcing herself, even though she had been standing there for a while. “Shame on you, Reg.”

“What’s up, Bets?”

“Not much.” There. They acknowledged each other, politely. Briefly. Annnnnnnddddd there he went, back to Veronica. Like always. Like everybody.

“Ronnie…could you come outside for a minute?”

“Why?” She loved doing this, Betty fumed. Playing dumb. And people called HER blonde.

“Just c’mon,” he wheedled, excusing them from Betty. “I’m stealing her from you,” he reasoned.

No, she thought. Not from me. Reggie’s smile was disarming, and she met his eyes.

Nancy was right. He was very good-looking, when you allowed yourself a good look. Tall. Broad in the shoulder, and not too skinny, certainly not as lanky as Jughead. Perfect hair. Perfect teeth. Perfect skin…NICE ass. And, she noticed, hands that suddenly looked pretty big as he gripped Veronica’s and tugged her away. They left, and Betty stooped down to study the camera equipment, pausing when she caught a faint whiff of Reggie’s aftershave wafting back to her. Faintly metallic, slightly citrus, and…undeniably masculine. Hmm. Okay, score one for the cologne.

Not that it mattered that she was keeping score. It was Veronica, two; Betty, zip. Betty made polite conversation with Mr. Mantle as he read the light meters and toyed with the wall switches and spotlights in the ceiling. Archie’s voice nearly made her jump at her elbow.

“Whatcha doin’?” he drawled.

“Nothing. Watching Mr. Mantle play with the cameras. It’s educational.”

“Exciting.”

“Mmmm.”

“Where’s Ronnie?”

“Outside.”

“When did she head out there?”

“A minute ago.” Then she had a glimmer of an idea. “With Reggie.” Well, it was true…

“Oh. Okay.” Archie checked the wall clock, and Betty felt the weight of his sidelong glance warming her. “Bets?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna blow this place?”

“I was gonna run an errand, anyway. What are you doing?”

“Ronnie brought me here,” he admitted, and Betty felt that flush of disappointment wash over her face, like runny egg yolk.

“I could give you a ride, then, if you want,” she offered lamely. “I have to stop at the boutique before it closes.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed amiably. They made their way back to her sedan, and Betty let him in first. “After you, sir,” she teased.

“I thank thee, milady.” Instead of leaning over to unlock her door, he sat there like a lump. She grumped to herself, “Okay, I’ll open my own door, then, don’t mind me, just the chauffeur.”

They drove in relative silence, broken only when Archie began fiddling with the radio. “That’s Ronnie’s boutique where she said she got her shoes.”

“I’m picking those up now,” she murmured.

“Cool.” Yup. He was clueless. She rolled her eyes and parked the car.

“You all ready for the big day, Bets?”

“More or less.”

“Cool, cool.” They walked into the air-conditioned boutique and Betty rang the tiny bell on the counter. Archie looked like he felt out of place in the feminine-looking salon, appointed as it was in tassels and lavender watered silk. “So dude, who you taking?”

Dude. She mentally banged her head against the wall. “I…I don’t know.” He whipped his head around to stare at her and opened his mouth, but Bertie stepped out before he had the chance to badger the information out of her. Betty made the transaction quickly, her cheeks pink and hot under Archie’s silent scrutiny as she asked for her own shoes and accessories and Ron’s pumps. They exited the store, and this time Archie held Betty’s door on the way out.

The air inside the sedan felt charged with something nervous and different. Her scalp felt tight, and Archie drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“Bets?”

“Yeah, Arch?”

“Why don’t you have a date yet?”

“Okay, we’re back at that again,” she mused. She faced him. “Why do you care that I don’t have a date?”

“You’re gonna get all dressed up and hot just to go alone?”

“I’m gonna get dressed up to go and dance, not just to ‘go alone,’ Arch. I’m a big girl. I’ll get to see everyone.” She was still flustered; he said she’s look hot at the prom. She suddenly didn’t know why she was so defensive.

“It’s not the same.”

“Like you’d know,” she accused playfully, even if she didn’t feel that way. A hard lump had settled in her stomach. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Duh. You don’t have to worry about a date, do you?” She turned the car into Archie’s neighborhood, flicking her blinker. “You’re just taking Veronica. How simple is that?” Her prior bravado that she felt when she left her own house had disappeared. It was best to just plunge in, and get it over with. She was already stinging.

“Not as simple as you’d think. She hasn’t said yes.”

“Er…Arch? When you say she hasn’t – “

“I asked her. She didn’t say no. Or yes. She gace me a big fat helping of maybe.” He chuckled under his breath and plowed his hand through his hair, riveting her. His expression was helpless. She’d never seen him helpless. She gripped the steering wheel, fighting the urge to reach over the console and touch him.

“So…what’re you gonna do?”

“Pick up my tux on Friday. My mom ordered my boutonnière.” 

“And then what?” She pulled into his driveway, surprised to see the lights on the Andrews’ porch burning, even though the house appeared empty. They eyed each other over the console. Archie’s hand fiddled with the frayed threads around a hole in his knee.

“Maybe you should tell me. You’re the one who’s gonna go to the prom, all ‘Miss Date Undetermined,” so school me on how it’s done.” He eased back in his seat. “The prom’s supposed to kick ass. We used to think it was a big deal. It’s a girl thing, but yeah, I wanna go, too.”

“It’s special. I’ve been dying to go my whole life,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he encouraged. His eyes were soft and warm, and she felt like she could drown in them. “Bets?”

“Yeah?”

“Whaddya say?” Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him incredulously.


	3. Nicer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just want to smack Archie upside the head...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief smut and a nice girl getting her heart broken.

“Arch…”

“Go with me to the prom, Bets?” A spasm of undiluted delight rippled through her. She nodded, puppetlike, mouth agog. Her eyes shone, and all she could do was sit there, savoring it.

“Yes.” Matter-of-fact. No hesitation. “Oh, yes.” Her voice cracked.

“You’re supposed to sound happy about it.”

“Arch…you have no idea.” She flicked at her eyes before the tears could prick her. Her fingers were prized away from her face gently and curled in Archie’s palm.

“I’m starting to. C’mere.” Please, don’t let him just be playing with me…this could turn out to be such an awesome day if he does what I think- His lips were hot and demanding as he tugged her against him, kissing her hungrily, feeding her own yearning. Her fingers trembled as they crept up to stroke his cheek, treasuring his firm jaw. He felt so good, and so familiar, bringing back memories of those rare instances after their first dance when he seemed like he actually saw her. Wanted her. 

The music piped out from the modest speakers in the car. Betty ignored it, as well as the hum of the engine that she’d left running as Archie had his way with her mouth, kissing her leisurely, alternating between hard and soft. Her moans were low but insistent, escaping her as his hands plunged into her hair, tangling in the silky blonde sheaves. He nipped at her, drinking up her taste, before he dragged his mouth hotly over her chin. Her mouth fell open and she emitted a ragged cry.

“Oh, Archie…oh, my gosh…” She didn’t care if she sounded lame. He felt too good, he was exciting her too much to care if she was babbling. She nearly came out of her skin when his lips slid over her pulse; she felt her juices flowing and saturating her panties when he laved the side of her throat with the flat of his tongue.

“Mmmmmmm…” His breath steamed her flesh as he continued to explore her soft skin. “You smell good.”

“I’m filthy, I was in metal shop all day.”

“Uh-uh. You’re wearing a little perfume still. Smells good.”

“Oh.” He nipped her with his teeth, then gently closed them over a sensitive spot and suckled. “Oh, God! Don’t stop, please!”

“I can’t,” he admitted. He fumbled with his seat belt and unbuckled himself, letting it retract into its holster as he lunged for her again, following suit with hers. He flipped up the armrest and closed in on her, triumph written in his eyes as his hands sought her out.

Months. Years. Oh, how long she’d waited to have him here like this, all to herself.

His fingers dug into her flesh through her clothes, groping her firmly and insistently, as if he couldn’t get enough of how she felt. Heat spread through her limbs, and a pleasant tingle rippled through her stomach, warming her like whiskey. Her body was aware of him, awakening at his touch. Her nipples puckered and poked out beneath her bra as he found her ear this time, tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue. He suckled the lobe tenderly between his lips, drawing moaning cries of want from her.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” The words were out. “I thought you wanted Ronnie.” He paused and pulled back for a moment, staring into her eyes and kissing the tip of her nose.

“I did,” he admitted. “Sometimes, I still do. I won’t lie. It’s just different with you. With you, what you see is what you get. If you say you’re gonna call me, you call. I can hang out with you, Bets.” He kissed her again. “You’re real.” He kissed her again. “And cute.” And again. “Nice.” And again. “And sexy.”

“Liar,” she accused, smothering a laugh and covering his lips with her fingers.

“It’s true. Especially when you make that little noise like you did a minute ago.”

“Which one?” Her voice sounded sultry coming out of her mouth, more than she’d planned. He answered her by cupping her nape in his palm and devouring her lips again. This time, she felt his hand swirl around the globe of her breast, teasing it before he found her nipple. He tugged it, and she nearly came apart, her voice climbing inside the small sedan.

“That’s it,” he confirmed smugly, enjoying his handiwork. He kneaded the smooth, taut mound, tickling her nipple where it practically begged for his touch beneath her tee. “Do that again.” He reached beneath her shirt. Alarms went off in Betty’s head.

They were outside. She was getting close to curfew. She still had to drop off Ronnie’s shoes.

“We can’t do this. Not here.”

“Turn off the car.” He let her shirt drop reluctantly before he turned off her ignition. He dropped her keys into her palm and reached over her to open the driver side door. “C’mon.”

“Where are your parents?”

“It’s their bridge night. They play with Ronnie’s folks.”

“Shit…that’s right. So…”

“That means we have the house to ourselves for another hour,” he concluded. He tugged her inside.

“I’ve gotta be in by curfew,” she explained weakly, watching him fish out his housekey and jam it into the lock. They entered the front den, and Betty scanned the unfamiliar surroundings while Archie went to turn on the light. “It’s nice.”

“You haven’t seen my room yet.” Her gut twisted nervously.

“Arch…”

“Let’s go,” he prodded, grinning back at her as he dragged her along by the hand. She stumbled after him, barely seeing the pictures hanging on the wall in the halls and along the stairs. Up, up, up they went, footsteps creaking on the old wood. Archie’s room was at the end of the hall.

He crossed the room in the dark and flicked on the lamp, bathing the room in a dim glow. Skateboard posters grinned out at her from every wall. It was cluttered and had that weird “sweat sock” smell that she remembered about her brother Chick’s dorm room at college.

A framed picture of Ronnie graced his nightstand. She didn’t have time to ponder it when Archie sat on the bed and tugged her to him, spreading his knees and pulling her between them.

“Get comfy, Bets.” He prized off her jacket, helping her out of it. She chuckled awkwardly, still unable to believe she was here.

“Arch, I don’t just do this…y’know,” she stammered as he patted his lap. She sat obediently there and sized him up as he massaged her back in long strokes, making her shiver.

“I know. We’re not really ‘doing’ anything. Just this.” He gently gripped her chin and tilted it toward him for another searing kiss, picking back up where they left off. Niggling unease coupled with arousal warred within her, and she was lost, sighing into his mouth.

He felt perfect.

His fingers were feathering over her belly, prying her shirt up and sweeping over her skin. She strained against him, giving in to his caress, unsure if she heard him swear under his breath when she accidentally bit his lip in her zeal.

Her shirt dragged her ponytail up, making it drop back to her shoulders in a rippling, static-tossed mass; Archie flung the grubby garment onto the floor and drank in the sight of her, fresh, ripe, with curves that made his sac tighten into a hard knot. He grunted in approval and nibbled the underside of her jaw.

“Can’t believe you were hiding that under that shirt,” he rasped, working her bra strap down the slope of her shoulder. Cool air made her aureole pebble into a puckered little peak. He traced the curve of her breast with his fingertip, spiraling it around and working his way to the straining, aching center…Betty gasped as he rolled it between his finger and thumb before baptizing it in the hot moisture of his mouth.

“Archie…this is crazy,” she rasped, breathless with want. She fidgeted and ground herself in his lap while her fingers wove their way into his thick hair.

“God, I could eat you up,” he groaned around her, suckling her and swirling the tip of his tongue around the rosy bud. Suddenly she felt insistent pressure between her legs; she had barely noticed when Archie had shifted her so she straddled him, splaying her legs open so then dangled over his thighs. His tongue played havoc with her breast, first one, then the other when he freed her from the bra after a hearty jerk of the hooks. She bucked and writhed with pleasure, shoving down the guilt she felt as she listened to his bedroom clock tick, tick, tick.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she reminded him half-heartedly.

“You know you want to,” he urged, and he circled his fingers over her crotch through the worn denim.

“ARCHIE…” She grabbed for his hand to stop him, succeeding only in flattening it against herself to keep him from rubbing her like that.

“Come on, Bets. You want it. I want you. Why not?”

“I have to get home.”

“You drove me here. You don’t live far away,” he reasoned, kissing her chin, then leaning down to gnaw on her neck.

She was torn. 

He was with Ronnie earlier today. Wasn’t that him up on the ladder, groping her in front of everybody? Better yet, he said “She hasn’t said yes.” What did that mean, in the long run? For that matter, why was it Ronnie was the one he asked first? Betty ran the events of the day across the table and weighed each one. She came to the gym to help the prom committee, and came alone. Archie didn’t drive himself there, so who did he come over with? 

And where was he, whenever there were other dances for him to ask her to? Hadn’t she always helped him with his biology homework? Let him borrow her notes? Typed his papers? Lent him a pencil when he didn’t have one? Made him brownies? Cheered for him on the sidelines whenever he had a game? Listened to him whenever he had a lousy day, even when Ronnie was playing her games and running the streets, talking about things they’d done on their dates and feeding the Riverdale rumor mill?

Betty had been nice. She had been patient and sympathetic. She had been loyal and friendly. She had given him room, given him an ear, given him her affection…her attention. Undivided attention. Archie, in return, had given her lonely nights waiting for him to call. Broken promises. Dates that sometimes materialized, or not. Days wasted on fixing his freaking junk heap of a car…she cringed at money she spent on parts for that car, thinking he appreciated it. Once in a while, she was his girl. The rest of the time, she was just one of the girls. Plural.

So, what was she now? She peered at the clock.

In deep trouble, that’s what. 

She felt herself being shifted again, this time downward, off of his lap. She gazed at him questioningly. “What’re you doing, Arch?”

“Just this,” he murmured, and he reached for the button on his jeans, jerking it open. Her eyes grew round with shock. He nudged her down further until she was kneeling in front of him.

“I don’t think…”

“I want you, Betty.”

“I want you too, but not like-“

“Bets…come on. Just for a minute. Look what you’ve done to me!” he chuckled, nodding down into his lap. She eyed the bulge poking out the front of his striped boxer shorts. Beneath the hem of his shirt, she saw a sprinkling of auburn hair running in a happy trail leading below his waistband. “You can’t leave me like this.” He reached down and eased his hand under the elastic and freed himself. Betty was speechless.

His flesh was rosy, darker than his belly. The shaft was thick and turgid, with narrow veins running along the underside. His testicles dangled free, nestled in downy auburn hair. Archie was ready, stiff and standing up at attention, and he nodded at it, urging her to take her time inspecting it. “Come on, Bets,” he whispered.

“I shouldn’t…” Veronica’s words came back to her in a flash. She was drawn to it, her fingers already drifting up to trace the tip of his head, gently probing the smooth indentation at the top. Archie’s jaw clenched at her touch, and she was shocked to see it actually jerk in response to the contact. 

“I don’t go downtown, either. Make a guy work for it, not you!” That had been Veronica's mantra.

I’m nicer than she is, Betty considered. Sure, that was it. Nicer. No games. What you see is what you get…she wanted to much to watch his face as she leaned over and kissed the plump head, breathing over it like a caress. It was too difficult to crane her head that way, so she focused on the parts of him that she could reach.

Ragged sounds poured out of Archie as she eased him into her mouth, smooth as silk, warm as a blanket. He leaned back and clutched the covers on the bed, sparing one hand to clutch her hair and rock her head over him, back and forth, encouraging her to use more pressure, more speed. Betty gagged slightly as she picked up momentum, but she continued at it. He’ll like me best, she decided. Ronnie won’t do this for him. She won’t share this with him like I will. She doesn’t care about him like I do. She choked again slightly but mastered it, but a tear dribbled loose from the corner of her eye and down her cheek.


	4. As If!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get ugly.

Summary: Things come to a head…no, not that way. 

 

“Goodness, Betty, hello! I wasn’t expecting you this late, dear. Come in, Veronica was waiting for you in the kitchen a little while ago. Would you like a soda?”

“Oh…yes, ma’am, I would, thank you,” she stammered.

“You look like you were working hard on something, dear,” Hermione Lodge smiled, nodding to Betty’s grimy clothes and flyaway hair.

“Er…I had a project. Prom committee.”

“Veronica said she just worked on posters today,” Mrs. Lodge accused. “Hmmm. Well, she’s in the kitchen.”

“I’ll find her. Thank you, ma’am.”

Betty’s footsteps were quiet against the marble tile in the entryway as she made her way back to the kitchen. Chrome appliances and Spanish tile gleamed in the cozy lighting, and she found Veronica poring over an issue of Vogue and enjoying a cup of cocoa.

“Squeeze a cheek, bitch,” Veronica greeted, offering her a tidy smile. “Took you long enough. Come on, show me my shoes!”

“Sure. No ‘nice to see you, Betty, thank you!’ One-track mind,” she tsked before handing over the shopping back by the handles. Veronica grinned and did a little dance on her stool.

“You rock. Come on, let’s go upstairs, I want to get a Polaroid!” She dragged Betty out as quickly as she had come in through the back hallway, practically tripping them both as they ran up the stairs. Betty nearly bit her tongue as she reached the landing.

Her jaw was still sore.

She listened to Veronica babble a mile a minute about fabric swatches and jewelry, and the hair appointment she set for the weekend, nagging Betty that she needed to set one for the same day and time so they could go together. Her face felt hot, and her skin seemed itchy and to fit her too tightly.

They’d barely made it out of Archie’s bedroom before his parents got home; Archie pecked her on the cheek and hustled back inside to pretend that he’d been home longer than he had, and alone. Betty drove home, her brain mired in confusion and frustration.

She felt as though she had…bought him, somehow. He was her date, right? He liked her, right? She had won this round, hadn’t she?

Well, hadn’t she?

He had made a promise to call her, or maybe meet after school on Monday at Pop’s for a soda so they could figure out all the usual details. Dinner. Flowers. Tickets. Pictures. Her stomach bubbled with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother that she had the last item on her list.

She could barely contain herself as Veronica walked into her closet and flicked on the light. She extracted the garment bag from the rack and unzipped it. Betty exhaled a long gasp of awe.

“Ronnie, it’s so beautiful!” she gushed. Betty found it hard to envy Veronica’s clothes when she was capable of duplicating anything she saw in a magazine with her sewing machine as the mood struck her, and found the idea of spending huge sums of money on clothing repellent, but she never diminished Veronica’s joy in her purchases, and this was a dress worthy of praise. Strapless, red satin studded with crystals down the bodice and around the scalloped hem, the skirt tapered and pencil-slim. Unabashedly Veronica handed Betty the garment bag and began to take off her clothes, dropping them where they stood until she wore only her tiny Victoria’s Secret bikini briefs, a mere scrap of black satin lying in stark contrast over the cleft of her fair buttocks. Her breasts bobbed and jiggled as she shimmied into the dress. Betty helped her to zip it up and stood back, and made appropriate noises of approval as Veronica pushed her Polaroid camera into her hand.

“Take one with my phone, too,” she commanded, pulling a vampy pose for the flash and sashaying in a circle for effect. She puckered her lips at Betty and sucked in her cheeks, effectively destroying the sexy image and making her giggle.

“Who are you sending the picture to?” Betty inquired.

“Reggie. You wouldn’t believe it, Betty, he asked me who my date was for the prom today.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That it was none of his business.”

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Who cares?” She admired herself in the mirror and seated herself at the vanity, gathering up her hair and arranging it into a messy upsweep. “All he wanted to do was brag about how his dad was doing the Bee a favor by taking the pictures for the dance, and talk about how much money he has to spend on dinner. He mentioned an after party at Chuck’s house, though, I said I might meet him there later. Or not.”

“Reggie’s okay, I guess,” Betty murmured.

“So? YOU go with him, then. I’m not wasting my time with that dickhead, he’s full of himself,” she muttered around a mouthful of hairpins as she continued to twist her hair into a French Roll. Betty dutifully came up behind her and helped to hold her hair in place while she inserted the bobby pins. “I don’t feel like listening to him talk about himself all night long.”

“Maybe he thinks he has something to prove,” she suggested. “Sometimes he isn’t so bad, at least when he’s not talking smack. I hate being on the other end of it when he gets started. I remember back in junior high, when I was on JV cheerleading,” Betty shuddered. “I lost my bloomers in the wash. I had to go out without them. The wind blew my skirt up while I had Nancy on my shoulders, so I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“I remember that! You were wearing the red underpants with Hello Kitty on them!” Veronica crowed with delight. Betty shot her a venomous look in the mirror. 

“Reg walked around saying ‘here, kitty, kitty!’ at me all week. I wanted to smack him.”

“Could’ve been worse. He wouldn’t have made a big deal of it if he didn’t like what he saw.”

“It was retarded.”

“It was funny.”

“Maybe for you!”

They chatted while Veronica tugged out her accessories and tried them on. Betty ran her palm over the silky red gloves and held one of the chandelier earrings up to her face experimentally. “So, Betty, what’s the deal? Still planning on going as a sexy old maid so you can dance with everyone?”

“Welllllllll…not really.”

“What, you’re not going? You said your mom helped you so much with that dress, it’s be a shame not to go, Betty! And what about me? I need my best friend there with me so we can talk smack about everyone else!” She pouted as though Betty’s reasons for skipping the big event would be of no consequence.

 

“I didn’t see I wasn’t going, Ron, I just said I’m not going alone.” She held her breath for a second and let it out in a rush. “Archie asked me to the prom!” She punctuated it with a tiny scream.

 

Veronica was speechless. Her smile wilted a little.

 

“Wow.” She turned away and stalked back to the closet. “So…he asked you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And you told him yes?”

 

“Well…duh, Ron. Of course I said yes.” A frisson of terror bloomed in her chest. Veronica’s voice was muffled by the well-insulated walls of the wardrobe and the racks of clothes, so she followed her inside. “Why? Is that a problem?”

 

“No…no. Of course not. So he asked you. That’s nice, Betty. I’m sure you guys will have fun.”

 

“We can still hang out. Maybe we can go halfsies on a limo, or…”

 

“Pfft! Whatever. Do what you want, Betty, you don’t have to make your plans around me.”

 

What the fuck…?

 

“You just said…”

 

“I’m gonna get dressed and help my mom with her club downstairs. Why don’t you head on home, kiddo.” Veronica made a show of peering at her clock. “You’re close to curfew.”

 

“O-kay,” she decided, her tone clipped. She spun on her heel and ran out. “G’night, Ronnie.” Her footsteps were heavy on the stairs, and her heart felt like lead in her chest.

 

Well, that was just spiffy.

 

~0~

 

Veronica hadn’t budged from her closet until she heard Betty’s car start outside and pull out of their circular driveway.

 

She quickly grabbed her phone and hit “1” and then her speed dial. “Arch” flashed on the contact display before she hit send.

 

“This is Archie?”

 

“This is Archie’s reason for living,” she quipped. “Hi, handsome. Whatcha doin’?”

 

“Hanging out. Watching the game.” His voice was lazy and sexy-sounding, perhaps even a little smug. She wasn’t going to ask him about his little secret just yet. If it wouldn’t benefit her, why bother.

 

“Wanna see my new dress?”

 

“I wouldn’t mind,” he drawled. She heard the smile in his voice. She scrolled through her photos and selected the one that Betty took, promised she would call him back, then hit “send.”

 

He rang her back first.

 

“Damn!” he marveled.

 

“It’d be a shame if I didn’t have anyone to show it off for.” If she indeed didn’t. Jason Blossom was still dangling, for the moment. If she went with him, dinner would be memorable, expensive, and carry the additional burden of giving him some trim after the dance, maybe even an after-party at a hotel where she was the only guest. She knew he was game. She just didn’t know if she could be bothered…

 

It was too much fun to mess with Betty’s head. She loved her. It was just the same brand of love she reserved for her toy poodle.

 

“I thought you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

 

“I hadn’t…but maybe now I have.” She dropped the other shoe as she casually tried on the red satin pumps with rhinestone straps, admiring them on herself. “I have a mind to have you come over to my house at six so you can pin my corsage on me and Daddy can take pictures.” She didn’t consider that he might have other plans, or that he would refuse her.

 

There was a pause, almost wide enough to make her heart skip. Then she smiled like the Cheshire cat when he told her, “I’ll go with the black tux, and I’ll place an order for a red corsage.”

 

“Make it a rose,” she purred sweetly. “Can’t wait, Archiekins.”

 

She changed out of her dress and gloated all the say down the stairs.


	5. Dancing Around It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watched too many 90210 and Saved By the Bell epis back in the day. And Gilmore Girls.

Summary: I’ll hate myself in the morning for this…

Betty’s day dragged on one grueling period after another; the clock seemed to mock her over the drone of Miss Grundy’s lecture on grammatical structure for their spring thesis that was due in two weeks.

“Come on,” she silently urged, tugging on the spiral wire of her battle-scarred binder. She doodled in the margins, drawing a little stick figure wearing a long, tapered facsimile of her prom dress hanging up at home. Just for kicks, she drew on some little spiral curls sticking out from her head. She mentally planned her hair and nail appointments and considered having her makeup done at the Merle Norman shop at the Riverdale Galleria.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIINGGGGGGGGG! There was the bell. Thank goodness. She practically galloped out the door and darted out into the hallway for her locker. She retrieved her copy of Hamlet and stuffed it into her backpack, as well as her trigonometry text. She popped a piece of Wrigley’s into her mouth and headed for the side exit. Archie said he’d meet her in the courtyard, and that they could each drive over to Pop’s.

Her heart was beating in overdrive as she caught sight of him by the tall elm tree before the parking lot. He looked yummy in his relaxed fit Dickies and a forest green skater shirt with long white sleeves. He scuffed his already beaten pair of Vans in the grass as he waited for her, looking strangely impatient, even though he could have only just made his way out there a minute ago.

“Ready, Freddy?” she grinned up at him as she sidled up.

“Hmmm? Oh, hey! Yeah, Bets, let’s hit it.” He was distracted; Betty clutched her backpack more tightly and slung it over her shoulder as she made her way to his car. 

“Pop’s?” she said.

“Yup. That’s what we said,” he replied, but his smile was uneasy.

“I’ll head straight over.” She smiled at him warmly, then leaned in for a quick peck. He accepted it, even returned it briefly, but his body was wound tightly as he turned to climb into his car. It started after he rolled over the engine twice. She climbed into her parents’ sedan and fastened her seat belt, pausing when she noticed Veronica entering the sun-dappled courtyard. She was giggling and flirting with Reggie when she noticed Betty, allowing her smile to drop slightly for a fraction of a second before she waved. Reggie followed her gaze. His expression held an odd mixture of concern and caution, but he smiled with his lips, nodding hello. He looked casual and fresh in chinos and a short-sleeved, plaid cotton shirt.

Betty fell in line behind the stream of cars exiting the lot. Through her rearview mirror, she peered back at her friends. Veronica was toying with Reggie’s shirt collar and giving him “the Eye.”

Reggie smiled indulgently at her, before turning his gaze in the direction of the exit. Huh.

Veronica rushed off. Betty resumed her wait for the faculty attendant to wave her through. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a tiny movement. Her eyes darted back to where Reggie was standing, only to find he was gone.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the rapping against her passenger side window. “ACK!” Her hand flew up to her chest, and she shot him a sour look as she hit the window button. He had the decency to look sheepish.

“Jerk,” she hissed. “What’s up?”

“Where you headed, doll?” She caught a whiff of that cologne of his again. The scent piqued her as she pondered why she was stopped.

“Pop’s,” she offered. His face was flushed, as though he had run to catch up.

“Just grabbing a bite by yourself?”

“I’m meeting Archie.”

“Same difference,” he scoffed. She rolled her eyes. He peeredat the her backpack on the floor of her car. “You look like you don’t have enough time to hand out with Carrot-Top, Bets. Gotta get home and crack those books.” His tone inferred that was how she spent all of her free time.

“I’ll work around that,” she assured him, smiling sweetly. I’ve always got time for Carrot-Top. “Don’t you have anywhere to be, Reggie?”

“Nice. That’s the thanks I get, not only for gracing you with my presence, because let’s face it,” he demurred, styling for her and evoking giggles, “I’m stunning…but I’m even doing you a favor – quit laughing, I’m not done – a FAVOR of saving you from the cheeseballish mediocrity that is Archie Andrews. Come on now,” he urged, cupping his ear with his curled palm. “I don’t hear you thanking me.”

“Thanks for making me late, Mantle!” She rolled her eyes with disgust as the car behind her honked impatiently for her to move. “Nice. Thanks for that, too. Better yet, thanks for nothing!”

“Okay, geez. A guy tries to be nice.” He squinted thoughtfully. “I’m headed across town. I’ve gotta run an errand for my dad at the paper.”

“And?” She took her foot off the brake and began to roll forward. Reggie kept pace at a leisurely walk.

“Nothing. I’m just gonna be on that side of town. Just in case something comes up…” He didn’t saddest what. “Or you needed rescuing from the inevitable pile of Archie’s homework crap that he saddles you with. Today’s Monday,” Reggie pondered. “Wasn’t this Archie’s biology lab, when he’s about due to write a report?” More honking assailed her ears. She scowled at him. He pouted back.

“Bye,” she carped. She floored the gas and sped out, burning rubber. Reggie jumped back reflexively, and she laughed at the look on his face, deciding that she almost liked him. Almost.

She enjoyed the mild sunshine, and was delighted to find a free parking space right in front of the Choklit Shoppe. She fed the meter and rushed inside, purse swinging from her shoulder. She scanned the interior of the shoppe; Archie occupied the booth closest to the old fashioned, lovingly restored jukebox. He idly spun the dessert menu carousel around on its stand until he heard her approach. His eyes flitted to her face, and he smiled like someone caught with a guilt secret.

“Hey, Bets,” he greeted her. “Squeeze a cheek.” She obliged him, sliding into the opposite seat and making herself as comfortable as she could against the chilly vinyl. Goosebumps crept up her legs, exposed by the denim skirt. She absently rubbed them away.

“Have you ordered yet?”

“Nah. I don’t really want anything.”

“Well…okay. I don’t want to have anything by myself, Arch. Sure you don’t want me to buy you a soda, or-“

“Its okay. I don’t need anything, Betty.” He fiddled with the jar of sugar packets. His blue eyes were sober and thoughtful. “God…this is hard.”

Her heart thudded hollowly in her chest. “What’s hard? Is there something wrong?”

“No.” A pause. “Yes.” He scrubbed the back of his neck with his knuckles before meeting her eyes again. His shoulders were slumped tensely, which made no sense in the context of their afternoon outing to their favorite spot. “It’s about the prom.”

Her lips wanted to quiver, but she mastered it. Nothing could take away the sudden dryness, though, threatening to cinch her throat shut.

“Well.” She leaned back in her seat and studied him, her good mood evaporating. “Is this   
‘what kind of flowers are you allergic to, so I don’t get the wrong corsage’ prom stuff, or are we talking ‘I didn’t mean it when I asked you to be my date, I just meant to ask you if you had a breath mint?’” He winced. She let her eyes drop to her hands, now folded over the table.

“I did mean to ask you,” he began.

“Okay. So, with that in mind, Archie…what? What’s the problem?”

“I…I can’t take you. I know I asked you to go with me. It’s just…I don’t know what to say, Betty. I asked Veronica first, and I never really told her I wouldn’t take her.”

Her blood ran cold, and her stomach lurched, even though she hadn’t eaten anything yet. The smell of fries and hot fudge sauce mingled in the air, sickening her.

“But you did tell me you’d take me. So, it seems like since I told you ‘yes,” instead of ‘maybe,’ that you should really consider me the one you committed to take to the prom.” She felt her logic was pretty reasonable.

“Betty…I asked her first. I can’t just back out of it.” His words were squeezing the air from her lungs, and she suddenly felt dizzy. She reeled in her seat, but sobered quickly. “Betty?” Her silence made him uneasy. He tore the wrapper from his straw to bits as she let his words sink in. “C’mon, talk to me, Bets. I’m sorry. I want to make this up to you. There’s still time for you to –“

“Don’t,” she ordered, cutting him off. She held out her hand, pleading for him to stop. “Don’t even say it. You know it isn’t true. I have four days, Archie. Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Fri-fucking-day,” she barked. His eyes grew into saucers at her harsh words.

“Bets, take it easy!”

“Sure. Easy for you to say. You’re going with who you wanted to go with from the beginning, even though it didn’t look that way for a minute, huh?” Random eyes peered at them in their booth before neighboring diners resumed their meals. Betty didn’t want to make scene. The new waitress stopped by and deposited two glasses of ice water on their table. “You got what you wanted, Arch. Goodie for you. That’s just great.” She rose from the table and grabbed her purse, dragging it off the seat by the strap.

“BETTY!” He flung his arms wide in entreaty. “I didn’t want it to end up like this, I’m sorry. Bets, I’m SO sorry!”

“No,” she gasped, eyes welling. Silvery tears dripped down her cheeks before she could stop them, tearing him to bits with her anguish. She telegraphed it with her defeated stance, with her pale cheeks and whitening knuckles, strangling the strap of her bag. “I wanted to go with you, Archie. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to spend time with you. I always try so hard…so hard to be what YOU want. To do what YOU want. You never see me. You just see Veronica when she just walks all over you, and when she treats you like you treat me!” She struck her chest for emphasis, and he felt the blow. His chin trembled for a moment before he had to look away from her, acting as though the jar of sugar packets had all the answers. “Well, now…n-now I know y-you don’t…feel that way about m-me.”

“Betty,” he groaned. She shook her head.

“Thanks for showing me where I stand,” she finished. She spun and ran out before the waitress could reach the table to take their order. Archie released a heavy sigh and raked his hand through his hair, knowing he’d really stuck his foot in it this time.

It didn’t mean anything to him. She didn’t mean anything to him. Not even after…she didn’t want to think about it. Those stolen, sweaty minutes in his bedroom, trying to please him. Hearing his strangled voice in her ear as she pleasured him, at the expense of her dignity, and wondering if his parents were going to walk in on them like that. She’d been filled with trepidation and shame, even while she assured herself that this was right, that he would want to be with her now. That he needed her. That he found her desirable. She swallowed him. Imbibed him, nearly choking. Her eyes watered, and her shoulders spasmed with the effort, but she was rewarded with his breathless statement that she was the best, that her mouth felt so good. He merely helped her get dressed and promised to call her when they got closer to the big day.

Betty ran to her car and worked the lock futilely, her hands trembling too hard for her to get it open. She smacked the roof of the sedan with the flat of her palm until it smarted, and her vision was still blurry. She leaned over the door and cried, loud, wrenching sobs. Tears dripped down the tip of her nose and into the corners of her mouth. She wanted to hate him.

She ended up hating herself.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whimpered into the sleeve of her shirt as she wiped her eyes against her shoulder.

“Betty?” A low voice, male and concerned, called to her from a few feet away, and she couldn’t find a voice to reply. She sniffled and sobbed, unable to master it. She wasn’t expecting a warm, firm hand to cup her shoulder and tug at her, prying her away from the car. She nearly stumbled back up against the curb, but those same strong hands caught her and held her steady, restoring her balance. She was pulled back against a solid body, supporting her as she struggled to breathe without that funny wheezing sound that wouldn’t stop creaking out of her chest. She felt her nose begin to run, but didn’t get the chance to reach up and wipe it before she was spun around into an embrace that enveloped her.

The faint scent of cologne, mingled with freshly starched cotton and detergent tickled her nose.

“You okay, Bets?” the voice asked her, rumbling and low in her ear. Hands stroked her back, soothing her, inspecting her gently, palming her heartbeat through her back. Her hands crept up, searching out the textures of her knight’s warm skin and the cool slickness of his hair as she clung to him.

“No.” She grimaced against the words. “He told me…he isn’t taking me.”

“Archie?” That was when it dawned on her. She leaned back, pulling away from the addictive warmth and contact, and looked up into Reggie’s dark brown eyes.

“Geez…Reggie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…man, this is bad, isn’t it? I’m crying all over you!” She scrubbed her cheeks with her palm until he caught her wrist, stilling it so he could finish the task. 

“Hold still a sec, Bets,” he murmured, cradling her face in his palm as he feathered his thumb beneath her eyes, cleaning away the streaky tears. His eyes were full of concern and barely restrained irritation, but Betty realized he wasn’t annoyed with her. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“Thanks,” she grumped.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he quipped, smirking. The noble gesture evaporated; Reggie was back to his old flip self. “Arch dumped his lab report into your lap, didn’t he?”

“Oh, do shut up,” she whined, glaring at him and backing off. She reached up to settle her hair, tidying her ponytail and tucking stray tendrils behind her ears. He watched her efforts, staring his fill of her as she recovered her bearings. “Why are you here? I thought you were running an errand for your dad?”

“I was. He sent me to pick up his lunch, he had a meeting with the editorial staff that lasted an hour longer than he planned.” He nodded to the white plastic bag that contained a styrofoam carry-out box and that was looped shut at the handles, resting on the ground beside them. “I was also gonna head to the tuxedo shop and pick up their camera-ready art for the full-page ad we sold them for the weekend edition.” He looked proud, almost as though he were responsible for selling the lucrative ad space in his father’s publication. “I saw you come out in a hurry.”

“I didn’t see you come into the Choklit Shoppe.”

“I got there after you did. I was at the counter when you ran out.”

“I didn’t run,” she argued.

“Looked like you were moving pretty fast to me,” he shrugged. “Hate to tell you I told you so…”

“Then don’t, since you didn’t. Archie backed out. He was going to take me to the prom.”

“He told you that, huh?” His face looked doubtful.

“He asked me. Not the other way around. I said yes. I thought that meant he meant it.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work. Of course, Carrot-Top’s not too bright, Bets.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” she hissed.

“Why are you defending him? You’re usually pretty quick on the uptake, Betty, so why stand here and back him up when he just made you cry your pretty little eyes out and make a scene?”

“I didn’t make a scene,” she railed, planting her hands on her hips. “It’s none of your business.”

“Everyone in the shop saw you run out, Bets. It’s everybody’s business now. And if you’re gonna stand up for Archie, make sure he’s at least around to appreciate it.”

“What?”

“He left.” He nodded to the space where Archie’s battered Chevy had been parked. It was empty. Betty’s cheeks grew hot, and she knew she was blushing, mentally kicking herself for letting Reggie get the best of her.

“Glad I got to help fill your quota for catching someone in an embarrassing moment for the day, Reggie. If you don’t mind, I’ve gotta bail.” She managed to yank her car door open this time and fling herself inside, strapping herself into her seatbelt in one smooth motion.

“Hanging out with Archie’s the embarrassment,” he continued, but she didn’t see any of the usual cruelty in his face. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and there was no smugness in his tone, only resignation. “He’s just using you. Why does a nice girl like you want to waste time following him around like a puppy?”

“Plenty of girls follow you around, Reg. Do you pay attention to the nice ones, or do prefer the ones who want to give you half an answer when you ask them out?” She didn’t plan on going on the offensive. A mean little voice in her head prodded her, Don’t let him get away with twisting the screws, making this mess worse. “Aren’t you late for a date to grovel at Veronica’s feet? Or Cheryl’s? You’re not the one to tell me who I should follow, Reg. You’re just like Archie in that respect. It’s more fun to chase after someone you won’t catch. Veronica’s just using you, too. She likes what you can do for her, Reggie. She likes how good you make her look, when she shows up somewhere with you. Too bad it wasn’t the prom,” she jabbed.

“Shit.” He looked slightly deflated, and his lips tightened, turning white around the corners. “Nice. That’s the thanks I get for trying to make you feel better.” He nodded at her backpack again. “Better get home and crack those books. Get that out of the way before you pine over Andrews some more. Go home and cry, if it makes you feel like you’re being loyal to him, or like it’ll magically make him stop liking Ronnie and change his mind.” His spine was stiff and proud as he bent to retrieve the to-go bag and leave.

Her quavering voice stopped him.

“Reggie…don’t. I’m sorry,” she called out. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes you did,” he insisted quietly. His jaw was stubborn and firm, and hurt shone out from his eyes. His nostrils flared briefly as he watched her. “I’m not chasing after Veronica. She likes to play the game, so I play it with her. That’s the way it’s always been. She’s hot, sure. We have fun together. I get a kick out of her and some of the stuff we do. And I like it when people turn and watch us walk into a room together. I like it when guys want her, and how I get to rub their nose in it that she came with me. It’s fun. I’m not gonna lie, Bets. I know how to treat her, too. She knows a night out with me won’t involve going Dutch or me showing up late, or expecting her to drive because my car’s not some piece of shit. I like to take care of myself and my stuff. I’ve got standards for myself, Bets, and any girl that spends time with me knows that.”

“Make sure that isn’t all they know. Sometimes you can be full of yourself, Reg.” Her eyes softened, and the last of her anger left her voice. “C’mon. Get in. I’ll give you a ride back to your dad’s.” He shrugged, then got in on the passenger side. The food carton rested on his lap after he buckled himself in, and he scooted the seat back a few inches to make more room for his long legs. “You can throw my pack into the back,” she offered. He obeyed, and she started the car. The CD in her player chirped to life, and they enjoyed the leisurely drive to the Riverdale Gazette plaza with the windows rolled down.

“Don’t let the nice ones get away just because you’re big on how things look,” Betty advised.

“Nice ones, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Define ‘nice ones,’ and what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Well, gee. Let’s think about that for a second. Someone who makes you laugh.”

“Big Ethel makes me laugh, but I wouldn’t date her.”

“Shut up! And she is nice, too, by the way. But I’m talking someone who lets you get a word in edgewise.”

“I want someone who actually uses words, Bets. Especially to tell me how great I am,” he preened, making silly muscle poses for her benefit.

“I know, but hear me out, you goofball! How about someone who does something else besides spending half her life at the mall? Someone who has hobbies?”

“Are we talking bug collecting? Square dancing? Fly fishing?”

“Sheesh…or even someone well-read.”

“I don’t want to date a librarian.”

“Even if you found a hot one?” A snort of laughter escaped him. “Gotcha,” she grinned.

“When I think nice…I think boring. Wishy washy. I like someone who will tease me and laugh at my jokes. Someone who’ll know how to be sexy and keep me interested. Someone who’s a smart aleck,” he explained. “That’s Ronnie, in a nutshell, or at least some of the other girls that I’ve dated who remind me of her.”

“Yeah…that’s nice, I guess.” She left out But those girls are bitches. “I guess if you’re a guy, those girls are cool, Reggie. But they suck as friends to other girls. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been friends with Ronnie since we were six, but…sometimes, I feel like she just wants someone to be a mirror for her. Not act like her, just to show her how great she is. It’s kinda all about her.”

“You don’t have any friends like that who do that for you?”

“I don’t need those kinds of friends. My friends show me I’m great by treating me like they enjoy my company and time. Like Nancy, also a nice girl,” she pointed out by way of example.

“Who’s taken,” Reggie retorted simply.

“Well, okay. But at least she’s an example.”

“Midge is nice,” Reggie added.

“Midge is taken, but there you go again. You chase the girls who need all the attention, Reg. Or the ones you can’t have.”

“Eh. It isn’t like she says no.”

“Oh.” Silence.

“Well, she doesn’t.”

“I didn’t know things were like that between you two.”

“Everyone else knows.”

“Good way to end up a grease spot in front of the school, Mantle.”

“Moose thinks he scared me away.”

“Again, ask yourself why you want to be with anyone who plays games.”

“She was a great lay.”

“Oh, God…TMI, Reggie! I SO didn’t need to know that!”

“You asked.”

“Eeerrggggh…that’ll shut my yap from now on.” They were out of the car now, heading up in the elevator to the newsroom. The building was buzzing with activity, and they landed on the third floor. Reggie tugged Betty by the elbow and they veered left. His skin felt warm, she thought. The building felt cool, and the office was decorated with myriad grey-walled cubicles and pale blue carpeting. They made their way to the large, airy office that said “Ricky Mantle, Editor-in-Chief,” across the pane in gold letters. Reggie knocked sharply before letting himself in.

Ricky was a slightly portly man, perhaps an inch shorter than his son, who was just shy of six-foot-two. His hairline was receding slightly and strands of gray invaded his jet black hair. He was still handsome, Betty noticed, and Reggie took a lot of looks from his father. Keen intelligence shone out from his eyes, and he smiled broadly when Reggie set the food container on his desk blotter.

“Hey, son,” he greeted. “Who’s the lovely lady?”

“Betty Cooper, this is my dad,” he announced.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she gushed, hurrying to shake his hand. Their grip was firm, and she made appropriate noises of approval. “This is a great office, Mr. Mantle. You’re so lucky working for a place like this.” Reggie puffed up with pride, and chuckled to himself as he watched his dad do the same.

“It’s my second home. Just ask the boy.”

“He never comes out of his cave,” Reggie cracked. “So I have to feed him.”

“You forgot soda. Here, buddy, grab me a Pepsi out of the machine in the break room?”

“Sure, Pop.” He nodded to Betty. “Make yourself at home.” She sat in the swivel chair opposite Ricky’s desk and smiled.

“Are you in classes with Reggie?”

“A couple,” she explained. “He was coming out of the Choklit Shoppe at around the same time I was. I’ve known him for a long time.” She didn’t add that Reggie used to make her life miserable on the playground when they were in grade school.

“Nice to know he doesn’t just hang out with hooligans,” he chuckled. “You look safe enough.”

“Thanks!”

“What are you planning to do with yourself after you graduate high school, young lady?”

“College. I would like to write, but not necessarily in journalism.”

“It pays the bills, kiddo. Don’t completely discount it as an option. I have to work hard, but I love what I do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Reggie plans on having an internship with me this summer, just to get his feet wet before he goes to school. I’m proud of him.”

“He’s a riot. He works hard, too, sir. He was a great quarterback.”

“He focuses too much on football. He won’t play forever,” he mused. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy watching him play.” He reached into his wallet and unfolded a long string of photos in cellophane holders. “This was him when he played Pop Warner ball. This was Reggie with his first tooth. This was him after he skinned his knee riding his skateboard down a rail, the kid’s trying to give me a heart attack!”

Betty was in that position when Reggie got back with the drinks: Engrossed, smiling fondly and laughing at the elder Mantle’s stories of him as a kid that he’d never dare to share with anyone. Her body was relaxed, her skin was flush with happy color, and she looked so damned pretty when she smiled. She pushed back a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and swung around to face him.

“Hey. Your dad was just entertaining me and telling me all kinds of dirty secrets about you.”

“And on that note…bye, Pop!” He set his father’s drink on his desk and hoisted Betty out of the seat, dragging her after him.

“Later, buddy!” He laughed at Betty twisting around to wave sheepishly over her shoulder at him as the door banged shut. 

The two of them looked cute together.

Betty gave Reggie a ride back to his car, almost bereft at having to let him go, even though she knew she should be relieved. No more criticism. No more arguing. No more potshots. Right?

Well, right?

The sun was setting and throwing a warm orange glow over the street, bathing it in growing shadows. Reggie let himself out and shut her door gently, and stood there hesitantly, as though there was something he had forgotten.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” Betty offered.

“Sure.” He stroked the edge of her window and stared at his shoes for a moment. “Betty?”

“Yeah?”

“Wait.” He climbed back in before she could turn the car away from the curb. He shut the door, surprising her. “Don’t go yet.”

“It’s getting late.”

“I know. No rush. Just…wait. About what I said earlier, Bets…I’m sorry. Back when you were upset, I shouldn’t have been there, rubbing it in. You already felt like crap.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, her attitude cavalier, but he saw that she was still smarting from that moment. In the fading light, her hair was set ablaze in the sun, and her eyes were a clear, tourmaline blue with specks of violet that he’d never noticed before. She even had a few faint freckles around her nose. “Nothing like flogging a dead horse. Guess I was asking for it, though. He’s just not that into me, I get it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay.” She was waiting.

“Maybe you’re too good for him.”

“That’s what you tell someone who doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with the person they want.”

“No. That’s what you tell someone when it’s true. You’re really something, Betty.” He reached over and turned off the ignition of her car before she could protest.

“Reg…what are you doing?”

“Not so fast, Cooper.” He leaned over and unbuckled her seat belt. Her lips were full and pink and shaped like a cupid’s bow. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her skin felt smooth as water when he reached out to stroke back errant strands of hair that slipped loose from her pony tail. He took her hand and tugged her closer, and he felt the pulse in her wrist quicken as the gap between them narrowed.

“Reggie…” Her voice held no resistance.

“C’mere,” he murmured. He pushed himself out onto that limb, wanting to find out something for himself that he pondered from the moment he caught up to her outside of the restaurant.

Did she taste as sweet as she smelled, and how would it feel to kiss a so-called “nice girl.”

Heat surged through his veins at the first touch of her lips, and he cupped her face in his palm, caressing her as he brushed his mouth against hers. The kiss was sweet and slow, hesitant at first as Betty attempted to find out what he wanted out of it. She emitted a small moan of contentment when his lips turned out to be as warm as the rest of him, even hot as they probed hers, sucking her lower one between his and lapping up her flavors. The kiss was a melting fusion of heat and want, and he brushed his lips over hers again, slanting her mouth to suit him, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He kissed her just the way she loved to be kissed, stunning her that it could be this perfect.

Her hands began to explore him of their own accord, treasuring his jaw, playing with his earlobe as he teased her with his tongue. He traced the seam of her lips with the tip, then swirled around hers in a sinuous dance that dragged a moan from her that set him aflame. Her fingers curled in the open collar of his shirt, tangling in his rich hair. His voice was strangled as he trailed kisses over the crest of her cheekbone, bathing her flesh in his hot breath.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Betty…”

“Please…don’t stop,” she pleaded. Her voice was ragged and desperate, and she clung to him, twining her arms around him as far as she could reach, clutching at his broad back. Her common sense screamed alarms in her head. This was Reggie. Reggie Mantle, who thought she was beneath his notice…hey. Since when did she want him to notice her, anyway? He wasn’t supposed to feel this right, so solid in her arms. He was lean and muscular, and his skin was smooth beneath his shirt. He held her in an iron grip, muscles tensing as she caressed him, trailing fire with her touch. He was aroused, and every nerve ending felt alive as she submitted to his nipping, hard kisses along her throat. Her breasts were mashed into his chest, and he could smell her flowery shampoo and the remnant of a breath mint she must have finished earlier.

She was gonna waste a perfectly good breath mint on Andrews? He mentally shook his head at badly spent effort, gloating that it made her taste even sweeter now, wrapped up with him like this. She was a better kisser than Veronica, who turned him on, sure, but she always held back a little. Always teased him, made him work for it. There was never this all-consuming, hungry need that radiated from Betty, drawing him in. 

They broke apart, both panting, eyes wild with disbelief.

“Right,” he began, recovering first. “It’s late. Homework…I’ll let you…do your homework.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, nodding lamely before turning to stare at her steering wheel. She shook herself briefly and murmured, “Reggie?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?”

“I’ve gotta go,” he evaded, jerking open the door and high-tailing it out of there. She sat there in his empty car. His spine was stiff as a poker, and he was moving pretty fast back to his own car.

She didn’t realize that he had an erection he could hang his hat on.


	6. Bad Boys, Explained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…tick, tick, tick. Betty asks for answers. Reggie asks for something else.

Summary: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…tick, tick, tick. Betty asks for answers. Reggie asks for something else.

Reggie’s feet carried him by habit to every class and study hall, but he couldn’t swear for the life of him what he’d hastily scribbled in his class notes, nor could he recognize the sound of his own voice whenever roll was called, and he answered “Here.”

He wasn’t really there at all. He was still in Betty’s car, in the passenger seat, kissing her like he couldn’t get enough. It scared the shit out of him.

Seventh period study hall arrived, and he grew restless, fidgeting at the cramped table, scarred with old graffiti that looked like someone carved it into the wood with the tab of their pen cap. He ended up stuck next to Big Moose, who was dutifully scrawling the answers to his Algebra I problems on a battered piece of gridlined paper. It had taken him two years to pass remedial math, and he was making slow and painful progress. Dilton made occasional house calls to tutor him on Saturdays, when no one was likely to see him coming and going over the threshold of Moose’s weather-worn tract home on Elm Street. Moose got over his initial shame at asking for help once Dilton reminded him there was no harm in it, and didn’t he want to keep his grades up to better secure a winning season for Riverdale next fall?

Reggie didn’t have a problem with Big Moose in principle; he just couldn’t sit still, smack-dab next to the guy who’s girlfriend he’d been stepping with, under the guise of her “babysitting” for extra money. Sure, Midge was a hottie. He enjoyed the sound of her voice on the phone, doing that little breathy laugh that made warm prickles wash over his skin and his pants feel snug. He knew Moose was taking her to the prom, and that didn’t bother him all that much.

Come to think of it, he’d never had many “dates” with Midge that were actually that. Dates. Trips to the late movie on Saturday, instead of the Friday 7PM show, so they wouldn’t run into people they knew. Or the occasional clandestine fuck in her basement rec room, usually with her going down on him on the tweed-upholstered sofa. She was creative, he’d give her that, even if she left him sticky once when she gave him a blow job with a mouthful of fizzy Coke. She was more petite than Veronica, even though her dark good looks and the sassy way she carried herself were comparable. Midge didn’t play any games with him; she made it clear that they were friends with benefits.

It wasn’t the same as having a girlfriend.

Lately he couldn’t be bothered with making that extra effort. Senioritis sucked. Last-minute exams to pass, credits to fulfill, applications to send…and a too-brief summer break before his dad sent him packing off to the state college of his choice, once he made up his mind. If he started dating anyone else now, what was the point? A couple of months to waffle around, another couple more months to juggle a summer internship with trying to “test the waters” with someone new…someone to monopolize his time…

Reggie held no such illusions. A summer fling was one more thing he’d have to pack away before he went off to school. Teary goodbyes and promises to call and email weren’t in his plans.

The library…he could lose himself in the library, he decided. Skim through a few old copies of Sports Illustrated, look for that Stephen King anthology that caught his eye the last time loafed around among the shelves. Anything beat this restlessness…He ambled up to Miss Grundy’s desk, smiling diligently when she looked up from her stack of test papers.

“May I have a library pass for this period, ma’am?”

“I might have handed them all out – oh, never mind, there’s one left.” She scrawled her curling signature across the bottom of the small, pink slip and slid it over to him. “Enjoy yourself, Reggie.”

“I will,” he assured her, but he felt his gut clench as he swept out from the hall. He reached the library and eased through the double doors, instantly regretting it. It was quieter, with almost the same faint buzz of activity as the study hall, and it was redolent of that musty scent of faded paper and newsprint. He presented his library pass to Miss Phlipps and set his backpack down on a resource table before he retreated to the fiction section. He rifled through letters K thru M among the stacks, arriving at the Stephen King hardcovers and selecting a copy of Christine. It was a reliable old favorite, and he thumbed through it, contemplating if he could read enough of it to keep himself occupied til his last two classes. He caught a faint swish of movement through the cracks between the shelves where books had been withdrawn, and he peered through it curiously, noticing a familiar looking back.

Betty was clad in a lightweight, faded denim jacket, her blonde ponytail swishing back and forth as she skimmed through a battered Joanna Lowell paperback.

“Bets,” he whispered harshly, before he could stop himself. “Pssst…”

“Oh!” She spun around and clapped her hand around her mouth against another outburst, not wanting to commit a noise infraction and upset Miss Phlipps. “Reggie?” she murmured, approaching the shelf and leaning on it, peering back at him with an amused look. Her cerulean eyes danced at him, and he felt flushed, remembering their last encounter in a tingling rush. “What’re you doing?”

“Browsing. Messing around. The usual,” he replied, holding up the hardcover by way of explanation. “Study hall. Got bored.”

“Wow. That’s just…funny.”

“Why?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, rocking back on his heels.

“It’s just…I never see you in here.” 

“I know how to read, Bets,” he muttered. “Sheesh…”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. What’s the crap you’re reading?”

“Hey, I like this crap! Just some pleasure reading. Brain candy.”

“No. That’s crap. THIS is brain candy,” he corrected her, brandishing the Stephen King novel again. “C’mon over here. Allow me to school you worthwhile reading material, Miss Cooper.” He came out from behind the shelf and turned the corner, tugging her by the elbow with him to the rack he’d perused only minutes ago. “Go for the classics. Check this out. We’ve got the Lawnmower Man. We’ve got It. We’ve got the Apt Pupil, which rocked, by the way…”

“Ecccchhh…it was creepy. Made me feel unwashed when I saw the movie.”

“Read the book anyway. Takes you into the characters’ heads.” Then he reached for a familiar title, removing it from the shelf and leaning in toward her fresh scent, nudging her shoulder playfully with his. “Just the book for you, if your prom plans don’t work out,” he announced briskly. Betty made a disgusted noise at him, and Reggie felt the faint breeze left from her hasty departure.

“What? Bets? BETTY! I was just joking,” he insisted, chucking the copy of Carrie back onto the stack.

“Jerk,” she muttered, stalking off with her softcover fluff novel tucked under her arm. Her cheeks burned, and she just wanted to turn around and smack him with it.

Why did he have to rub it in? She threw herself into her chair at one of the study cubicles and cracked open her book, attempting to lose herself in the old West historical romance that followed the same formula as about ten different books she could name.

“Bets…I’m sorry.” His pleasantly deep voice sounded contrite, muttered at her from over the cubicle wall. He was looming over her, his face bereft of its usual smirk.

“Sure you are.”

“I am. Guess that wasn’t fair,” he admitted. She sighed, then set down her book without saving her place, and she leaned back in her chair, slinging her arm over the back of it as she faced him.

“I don’t know why I’m even getting mad at you, Reg.” Then she shook her head. “Actually, I do. What the heck was that, back at the Choklit Shoppe? You’ve barely spoken to me since!”

“I haven’t seen much of you around,” he hedged, and he felt his cheeks flush. “What did you want me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Reg, maybe ‘Hey Bets, how’s it going? Hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea after I counted your fillings in the front seat of your car?”

“You don’t have any fillings,” Reggie pointed out, leaning against the cubicle partition and smiling lazily, allowing his dimples to show. She grimaced at him and sighed again.

“Be that way, then. I’m going back to my book now,” she announced. 

“SHHHHHH!” Miss Phlipps walked by and shushed them, rapping a small notepad against the cubicle partition. Reggie hunched away in chagrin from her before pausing a moment to watch her departing back.

“Here,” he whispered, reaching into his pocket for a slip of scrap paper. It was an old hall pass he’d forgotten about when he came late to first period trig class that morning. “Take this. Can’t talk here.” He scribbled something on it and reached over to press it into her palm. His fingers were strong and warm, the nails clipped short and scrupulously clean. 

She caught him before he could pull away, gripping his hand gently to keep him there. She carefully turned his hand in both of hers, tracing a long scar on the back of his hand with her fingertips. Her faint touch sent a shiver through his stomach.

“Where’d you get this?” she mused, clucking her tongue. “Looks like it hurt.”

“Football. Junior varsity. Bad tackle,” he explained, flushing beneath her scrutiny. 

“Ouch,” she murmured, absently stroking it with her thumb. Her own skin was soft and also warm, her touch gentle and knowing. He cleared his throat and reluctantly pulled away, shoving his hand into the pocket of his painter’s jeans.

“Don’t lose that,” he reminded her. He strode back to the resource table to retrieve his backpack and check out the book at the front desk. She watched him, craning her neck around the cubicle wall to drink in the sight of his sculpted body walking away in those jeans and the red tee that hugged his broad back. He peered back, as though he sensed her eyes on him. She waved feebly, managing a vestige of a smile. He nodded back, a glint of mischief in his eyes as the swinging doors shut behind him.

The slip of crumpled paper pulsed in her hand. She flipped it over, noticing his jagged spikes of handwriting.

Courtyard, outside. Meet me. His phone number was scribbled beneath. She tucked it carefully into her purse and tried to lose herself in the first paragraphs of her novel.

She gave up minutes later, returning the book to the shelf. She turned the corner and searched for the discarded hardcover and checked out Carrie on a whim. Reggie, she decided, had a point…

Her stomach bubbled with a mixture of confusion and anticipation for the rest of the day. Ethel came up alongside her while she fished through her locker, searching for her gym clothes to take home in her pack, as well as the novel and her trig notebook.

She felt an insistent tug on her hair. “Hey, Ethel.”

“What’s up with you, Betty? I yelled your name twice, you didn’t even look up,” Ethel insisted, hand resting on her bony hip as she cradled her books in her arm. “Wanna head to Pop’s for a soda?”

“Actually, I can’t; sorry, kiddo. I’m gonna meet Reggie out front.” Ethel’s eyes grew round.

“WHY?”

“He asked me to earlier; I don’t have a clue,” she remarked simply, shrugging. Ethel was incredulous, and she didn’t appear to buy it.

“Oooookay,” she drawled, eyeing her. “You don’t have a clue. Sure you don’t. Reggie doesn’t just ask girls to meet him anywhere just for the heck of it. What have you been up to, Betty?”

“Nothing; he just wanted to talk about something, and we couldn’t talk about it in the library.”

“Details. I want details!” Ethel called after her as she slammed her locker shut. Betty tossed her a quick wave over her shoulder and rushed out to the courtyard before anyone else could stop her.

She failed misterably. She ran smack-dab into Archie as she careened around the corner, past the double doors.

“OOF!” The shock of stopping so quickly and colliding with him jolted her, and she flushed beneath his gaze.

“You okay? Where are you rushing off to, Bets?”

“Nowhere. Outside. And I’m not rushing.” Her voice was clipped, but her heart sped up at his grip of her shoulders. It never failed. Her tongue tied itself in a knot.

“Got a minute?”

“No.” She shook herself loose and shot him an apologetic glance. “Gotta go.” His touch still burned her as she hurried outside. She scanned the roving tide of students making their way to school buses and their cars in the lot, and felt her heart drop down into her shoes when she didn’t see him at first.

She wove her way through the crowd, spying him leaning against the huge oak tree, his foot propped back against it to allow his scant armload of books to rest against his thigh. The faint breeze stirred a lock of his glossy black hair, and he turned as though he felt her eyes on him as she approached. She gripped the straps of her backpack until she felt her knuckles go white. He smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She drew nearer, unsure of whether he wanted to linger in the yard. She made no move to remove her backpack.

“You drove here today?”

“Nope. Mom needed the car.”

“That’s fine. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride.” He brushed past her, leading the way, and the slight contact made her shiver. She savored the hint of body spray and his own natural scent, fresh, clean, and male. She fell into stride beside him as they walked to his car, a gently used green Mustang. He opened her door first, surprising her when he waited for her to climb in, making sure her feet were clear of the door before he eased it shut. She felt a funny little glow as she leaned over and unlocked his door for him before he aimed the key for the slot.

“You can set your pack in the back,” he offered. “Make yourself at home.”

“This is nice.”

“It’s all right.” He revved the engine, then inadvertently brushed against her as he turned his body and wrapped his arm around their seats to back out of the space. “It’s not the same as Arch’s clunker he drives around. That thing’s a piece of shit.”

“It gets him around,” she retorted, staring out the passenger window, but her cheeks burned with indignant tingles. “I don’t want to talk about Archie.”

He sighed gustily. “Me either, Betty.” He guided them out of the lot and turned left. Betty smothered a yelp of protest.

“Reg…my house is that way,” she argued, craning her neck in that direction. 

“I know. You don’t have to be home right away.”

“I hadn’t planned much else…”

“You have plans now. I’m stealing you for a while. I’ve got my cell, if you need to call your folks.”

“S’okay. I’ve got mine. Mom’s still at work. I’ll leave my dad a voice mail,” she suggested. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing. I just felt like talking where I wouldn’t have to lower my voice.”

“Talk about what?”

“Different stuff. This and that.” She received her second shock of the day as they pulled into the parking lot of the Riverdale Family Lanes and Entertainment Center.

“You brought me here to BOWL?”

“Eh. Bowl. Talk. Whaddever,” he shrugged, then shot her a grin that she slowly returned. 

“I haven’t been in ages,” she admitted.

“Time to remember how. Get ready to lose!”

“Oh, I think not!” she chided him, shooting him a mock look of outrage. “Loser buys ice cream at Pop’s.”

“Bull. My treat, even if I win,” he countered. He found a spot near the front and cut off the ignition. “Bets?”

“Yeah?” He looked uncomfortable. She schooled her face into soothing lines as best as she could.

“I-I’m sorry. About the other day…”

“Sorry we argued, or sorry you kissed me?” He exhaled a ragged sigh and watched her with brooding dark eyes.

“Sorry we left things hanging.”

“Okay.” That didn’t’ answer her question. Nonplussed, she clicked open her door. “So let’s bowl.” He bolted out from his side and met her around her side of the car, letting her out before she even set foot on the asphalt.

“Get ready for me to mop the floor with y… er, Reggie, what-?” She felt herself tugged to her feet, and Reggie closed the gap between them, nudging her back along the doorframe as he captured her lips in a kiss that was sweet and hot. “Mmmmpphh,” she sighed as his lips coaxed hers to open for him. He was gentle, surprising her as his palm tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline languorously as he tasted her. She didn’t realize her hands had crept up to tangle themselves in his tee shirt until he pulled back. She’d clung to him like a vine during the kiss, and her eyes were dazed, her lips still puffy from the contact.

“I’m not sorry I kissed you.” He teased her, nuzzling the tip of her nose with his and staring into her eyes until she shivered. “Believe that.” Mutely, she nodded, too stunned to speak. He tugged her away from the doorframe and nudged it shut, locking it with his keyring. She let her feet pad after him as he tucked her hand into hers, following him into the bowling alley.

The scent of popcorn filled the lounge as they picked out two pairs of bowling shoes, securing lane seven. Reggie paid for two frames and bought them each sodas without being asked, pressing a can of Coke into her hand once she had her shoes on her feet.

“Wanna go first?”

“Sure.” She took a sip of Coke and nearly choked on it when he selected a ball for her and brought it back to where she sat.

“Eleven pounder?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “How did you know?”

“Has a good heft.” He’d chosen a pink ball that matched her shirt. She grinned, taking it from him and lining up her shot. She drew back and let it fly, her stance nearly perfect as the ball hurtled down the center of the lane. She landed a strike, enjoying Reggie’s low whistle behind her.

“Nice,” he marveled.

“I can bowl,” she carped, noticing he sounded surprised.

“No. I meant nice view. Bend over like that again!” He leered wolfishly at her short denim skirt, her tapered thighs easily revealed by the fashionably frayed garment.

“You’re horrible,” she tsked, waiting for her ball to return.

“Eh. You’ve got two more turns,” he shrugged, completely unrepentant. She dutifully swung again, this time taking out four pins, then getting a gutterball. She imagined she felt his eyes where they were not supposed to be looking. He made her self-conscious.

Her smile was infecting him. She looked damned cute in that little skirt, despite the homely bowling shoes. She took off her jacket, feeling the alley grow slightly stuffy as the evening crowd began to file in. Reggie admired her figure, her torso shrink-wrapped in the snug cotton Happy Bunny tee, hugging a pair of full, firm breasts that made his hands itch. She wore almost no makeup, and she was pretty in a fresh-faced, wholesome way, but his gaze lingered on her mouth. Her lips were full, curved like a cupid’s bow, curling back from perfectly spaced, gleaming white teeth. They made their way through five more rounds before she bit the bullet.

“What’s on your mind, Reggie?”

“Kinda hoped you’d guess by now. You still don’t have a date for the prom,” he prodded. He didn’t phrase it as a question.

“Thanks for reminding me,” she deadpanned. “And?”

“And I wanted to know what color your dress was. I need to pick out a tie and cummerbund. Might help if we matched.”

“If we matched…hold up. Reg, you don’t have a date to the prom?” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest as he bowled his third strike in a row.

“All depends on whether you say yes. Then I’ll have a date.” Betty sat with her mouth open, trying to form words, but none would come. “Unless you’re still planning on going solo.” She continued to stare at him, shaking her head.

“I didn’t…I mean, my plans were still kinda…up in the air. Wow.”

“What?”

“I guess I didn’t see this coming. You. Asking me to the prom.”

“You don’t have to sound like I just asked you to walk over broken glass, Bets.” He bristled, then rubbed his nape thoughtfully. “You get a better offer?”

Her mouth went dry. “No. I didn’t. And I’m not really waiting for a better one…I’m just surprised.”

“You didn’t have a problem coming bowling with me,” he pointed out, and then Betty realized how neatly she’d been maneuvered.

“Shit. This is a date???”

“If you want it to be,” he murmured, and his smile was almost bashful as he handed her the pink ball when she approached the line of the lane.

“I…wow. Like, WOW.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Sorry. Wow,” she repeated breathlessly, taking her shot. She picked up the spare on her next go.

“Can you stop saying ‘wow’?” He bristled and folded his arms uncomfortably, and Reggie looked like a nervous little boy, just for a second.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Thanks. That was taking a chunk out of my ego for a minute…”

“Reg, I said yes.”

“I know; beats hearing “wow” again, like I grew another…”

“REG!”

“…head.” He spun around to stare at her, mouth agape. “You said yes.”

“I said yes. I’ll go to prom with you. I’d like you to be my date.” Her voice was smooth as silk, and she beamed at him, dispelling the knot in his gut as she murmured, “Your turn.” He took her suggestion, sending the ball hurtling toward an easy strike. The crash of the pins rattled in his ears, and he couldn’t wipe the smug grin from his face.

He won. He kept his word, treating them at Pop’s, and they sucked the thick malted shakes through bendy straws at the counter. Betty was bursting with girlish excitement, trying hard to rein it in.

“So…do you want to eat first, when we go?”

“That was kinda the plan.”

“Ah.” She stirred her vanilla shake, still surprisingly thick. Her cheek muscles ached from trying to drink it and from smothering her smile all afternoon. I have a date to the prom! She peered up at Reggie from beneath her lashes. “Maybe we can talk more about that plan tomorrow, or something.”

“What color is your dress?”

“Blue.”

“That’s all we needed to talk about. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“But what about tickets? How do you want to get there? What about-“

“Trust me. I’ll take care of it.” He tugged on her ponytail. “Chill out, Bets!” She shot him a look, but he remained smug as he gulped down a mouthful of his shake from the glass.

The sun was low in the sky by the time she got home, still on time to help fix dinner. She reached into Reggie’s back seat and retrieved her back pack.

“I had fun.”

“I’m glad. Crack those books, Cooper.”

“Among other things…”

“Did you save my number?”

“Ooooh! Hold on.” She rummaged through her pack, ruthlessly tearing a half a sheet from her Trapper binder, begging him “Got a pen?” He produced one from his glove compartment, bumping her knee slightly as he leaned over her to open it. She felt a current of warmth run through her at the contact again, musing that this was becoming more frequent. She scribbled her phone number on it and handed it to him, along with his pen. “Maybe you can give me a call…?” He didn’t reply.

Warm fingers framed her face just as she freed herself from the seat belt, and he leaned in and kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers, no less hungry for her than he’d been the last time in her car downtown. She felt his hands tangling in her hair and kneading the tension from her neck as his tongue delved into her mouth, feathering hers with velvety softness. He pleased all of her senses; his chest felt firm, solid and hot beneath her palms as she explored it tentatively, tasting vanilla on his breath and catching the faint whiff of his body spray and detergent on his clothes. His breath steamed her lips, and he groaned appreciatively at the feel of her, so pliant within his embrace.

The thundering blare of her father’s car horn from the end of the driveway jolted her from her reverie that each time that Reggie kissed her, she managed to get even more worked up and confused about how he felt about her.

“Shit,” she hissed. “Gotta go,” she admitted quietly. Her fingertips traced his lips in one last, brief caress before she ducked out of his car.

“G’night, Bets,” he husked. His eyes seemed to smolder, Betty mused, if eyes could do such a thing, as she glanced back at him one last time before she headed into her house. 

She puttered inside and dutifully hung her backpack on the peg in the kitchen beside the back door.

“You’re home late, dear,” Alice remarked, stirring a pot of beef stew with a wooden spoon.

“Sorry,” she hedged guiltily.

“It’s all right. Wash up and set the table. Where did you go?”

“Just out for a little while. I ended up going bowling, at the spur of the moment!”

“Who with?”

“Reggie Mantle, if that was his car I saw in the driveway,” he father rumbled, interrupting them as he strode into the kitchen, eyes full of questions. Her mother made clucking sounds with her tongue, turning back to her stew.

“Goodness,” she murmured, and Betty fought the rising flush that seemed to set her face on fire. “Oh, by the way, dear, Archie called.”


	7. Dressed to the Nines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom night. And problems.
> 
> And SMACKDOWNNNN!!!

Summary: Prom night. And problems.

Every penny of her babysitting money went into the ruthlessly styled upsweep and glittering manicure, but it was worth every penny. Betty didn’t recognize herself when she stepped out of the salon.

She tried to cast her conversation with Archie out of her mind, but she was failing miserably.

Her feet had dragged her up the stairs so fast her breath sawed in and out of her lungs by the time she reached her door. Her hands fumbled for the phone as soon as she bellyflopped onto her neatly made bed, and she rolled to her back, propping herself on her Hello Kitty throw pillow as she dialed.

Three breathless seconds. Three rings that buzzed in her ears and made her restless.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” Did her voice really sound that desperate? “It’s me,” she informed him, then added for good measure, “Bets.” She heard the crack of his smile on the other end and shivered.

“Hey. I called earlier. Talked to your mom for a minute. I didn’t know when you were gonna be home.”

“Well, here I am. So what’s going on, what did you want to talk about?” She schooled her voice to be cavalier; she was torn between wanting to give him the cold shoulder and gushing over how thoughtful it was of him to call. She mentally slapped herself; she’d just kissed Reggie. She could still feel him on her lips.

“I just kinda wanted to talk. Seems like you’ve been busy.”

“Guess I have. Studying for finals. I’ve been in the library a lot. I could practically move my bed in there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, chuckling dryly. “I bet.”

“I’m also getting ready for the prom.” She took a leap before she could think better of it. “I’ve already taken care of everything that I needed to.”

“Wow. That’s great.” His voice sounded strange; was he disappointed?

“I know,” she told him. “I’m going with Reggie.” There was an uncomfortable silence.

“You’re kidding,” he stammered. “Reggie? That’s your date?”

“He asked me,” she said simply. “We’re going to dinner first. We’re taking a limo. It’ll be nice for you and Ronnie, you can just take hers.”

“Yeah, I guess, but Bets…” His voice trailed off, and she heard him clearing his throat. “What’s up with you and Reg? Why him?”

“Why not? He asked me, he didn’t have a date, and my original plans kinda fell through.” Her tone had a hard edge.

“Bets…Reggie’s not exactly known for keeping his mouth shut about his dates. Look at him and Midge!”

“They don’t date,” she quipped. “They have sex.” She thought she heard him choke on something he was eating. “And since I’m not planning to have sex, it doesn’t really matter.” A flutter ran through her stomach at her own words. His hands had felt so good in the car… And suddenly she didn’t know if she liked the turn the talk with Archie had taken. “And y’know, Arch, I didn’t think you cared what Reggie did.”

“I don’t…it’s just…Bets, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“The last person who hurt me was you.” She didn’t go into the specifics about their night in his room. The humiliation still lingered.

“I didn’t mean it. I had a date, and I made a promise already, Betty.”

“You could’ve fooled me, and you could’ve acted more like it, Archie. So tell me, are you calling just because you want to talk to me, or just because you want to criticize my date?”

“He’s a dog, Bets. He uses girls. I care about you.” Her heart leapt for a moment before she came to her senses.

“I care about you too, Arch, but I don’t think we show it the same way.” His sigh was gusty and long-suffering at the other end.

“I wanted to know where you were going for dinner before the prom, and what you were doing after.”

“I don’t know what Reg has planned.”

“Then promise me you’ll go to Ronnie’s party.”

“What party?” She scowled and leaned up from her pillow.

“She’s having an afterparty at her pool.

“She never told me about it.”

“So? Call her and ask.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” she pointed out, but she was fuming. Some best friend. “She might not want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

So she can keep you all to herself…

“I’ll let Reggie decide what we do after the dance. You two have fun. You’ll see us at some point during the night.”

“Bets…”

“Bye, Arch.” She cradled the phone and flopped back onto her bed, exhaling heavily and groaning with frustration.

Why did he have to make things so confusing? And why the heck was she so confused.

She felt fine when she came home. Great,even. Reggie seemed to like her. Reggie was taking her to the prom. They’d probably have a spectacular time. Why was she even giving Arch the time of day?

And why was she still addicted to his voice on the phone? Why did she detect some odd little note of jealousy?

~0~

So that brought her here. She sprinkled some powder into her blue satin pumps before she unrolled the coil of her silk stockings up the length of her legs. She was satisfied with what she saw: She had nice legs. Putting on the various foundations and undergarments required by her gown felt like suiting up in medieval armor for battle, except she didn’t know who she was fighting.

 

~0~

 

Reggie hauled the garment bag over his shoulder as he exited the tuxedo rental shop, whistling under his breath as he headed toward the shoe store. The florist’s was next; he went with the safe white rose wrist corsage and matching boutonniere. He figured Betty probably liked roses. They seemed to suit her…

The whole week felt like a great big blur.

Betty was on his mind on the ride home and for much of the night after they went bowling. He ticked off her appealing qualities as he unloaded his backpack from the car and locked it up.

Funny. Smart. Nice. Cute. Blonde…that was a plus, and flew in the face of his usual preference for brunettes. She was wholesome. And she was always honest with him.

That left one big nitpick: She was obsessed with Andrews. He’d seen doodles on her book covers on and on notes he’d snuck out of Ronnie’s desk showing how “B.C. + A.A.” Mrs. Archie Andrews. Mrs. Betty Andrews. It was sickening. He’d watched her over the years blushing every time Arch walked by, transparent as glass.

And Arch didn’t deserve it. She’d put him up on a pedestal. Reggie couldn’t deny that it was a boost to his ego to have a girl feel that way about him. There had been a few. It was fun at first. The affection, the attention, the little surprises and favors, and the possessive kisses in front of the school before first bell. He wanted them to tell him he was the best, because he wanted them to convince him. It helped him convince himself.

Betty didn’t shine him on. She shot him a puzzled look one day when he’d driven up with Cheryl Blossom at homecoming. His night with her wasn’t remarkable. Fun? Sure. Intellectually stimulating? Not really.

Her skin felt like hot silk beneath his hands when they drove to a deserted spot on the beach after the dance. Cheryl acted like nothing had happened the next morning, merely nodding at him as she passed him in the hall. He nodded back. End of story.

So, now came the hard part. Reggie didn’t have a clue of how to approach things with Betty. But almost all of it hinged on tonight.

He pondered it on his way home, taking the long way back so he could stop for a Coke.

Archie stopped him yesterday on his way out of the boy’s locker room.

~0~

 

“Wait up,” he huffed, falling in step with him, his red hair still damp from a shower. “Got a minute?”

“Nope.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Archie continued, nonplussed.

“Then talk fast.” He didn’t slow his steps.

“What’s going on with you and Betty?” Reggie stopped and pinned him with incredulous eyes.

“Why’s it any business of yours, dude?”

“What d’you want with her? I heard she’s going to the prom with you.”

“Read that in the headlines?” It was a small high school in a small town; Reggie wasn’t surprised.

“No. She told me.” Reggie felt the tiny vestiges of annoyance, mingled with jealousy.

“Everything’s all set.”

“What’s ‘everything’ supposed to mean?”

“It’s still none of your fucking business,” Reggie flared, scowling darkly. “I’m taking her to the prom after I said I’d take her. Not like some dumb ass that dangled her and punked out. That took balls, and Ronnie’s got ‘em in the palm of her hand.” Archie returned his glare, and his face flushed.

“Don’t give me that shit! You’re leading Betty on because Ronnie didn’t want you to take her.” Reggie wavered a moment, giving Archie an opening to twist the knife. “Don’t play with Betty; she doesn’t deserve that…”

“She deserves you making her fucking cry,” Reggie hissed. He slammed his locker door, and Archie blanched. “I’m not the one who hurt her feelings. That was you, and it sure as hell wasn’t the first time.” He gathered up his physics book from the bench. “If I had wanted to go with Ronnie, I would’ve asked her. Be my guest.” Dimly, Reggie realized that Ronnie had been the last thing on his mind lately; ever since the little scene between her and Archie in the gym the weekend before, he realized he didn’t feel like letting her yank his chain.

“Betty isn’t like anyone else,” Archie informed him, and Reggie was affronted by the feel of Archie’s firm grip on his arm yanking him back when he tried to leave. “Why she said yes to you I have no clue, Reg; I don’t know what she was thinking, and she’s a smart girl. Everybody knows you treat every girl you pick up on like crap.”

“I don’t pick up on girls, Arch. They come to me; there’s a difference.” Reggie jerked his arm from Archie’s grasp indignantly, and his dark eyes flashed a warning. “And I didn’t pick up on Betty. I asked her.”

“She’s too good for you, asshole!”

“No shit? You’re gonna tell me she’s too good for me? She’s way out of your league, so shut your fucking mouth!” Reggie barked as he strode out of the suite, feeling the fumes of rage sweep over his flesh. His hands itched to go back and kick his ass.

 

~0~

Reggie ran his hand through his damp, spiky hair in front of the bathroom sink’s mirror. The dim light shone on the freshly cropped, glossy black locks, which no longer dusted his shirt collar. He contemplated his reflection as he massaged shaving foam into his jaw and tapped his razor beneath the warm water flowing into the sink.

He wasn’t used to making this much effort. Reggie knew the ropes. What to say, what to wear, where to take a girl on the first date or the last, how to make a first kiss memorable enough to keep ‘em coming back, whether he wanted them to or not.

Betty…she left him clueless. That excited and terrified him at the same time. He wondered if her dress would match her eyes. What she’d smell like, and how it would feel dancing with her, if her body would fit easily against his.

Would she kiss him first?

His skin tingled in that cool air of his bedroom as he toweled himself and laid out his clothes, digging out an undershirt and the dress socks he hadn’t worn since Christmas dinner. Basic black tux that didn’t make him look like a wedding cake topper. Cufflinks. Shoes he’d likely only wear once.

Ronnie wasn’t finished playing games. She shook her tail under his nose and casually mentioned the after party at her pool house.

He casually said he’s think about it.

It was up to Betty whether to show up. He just didn’t want to be part of the entertainment.

The corsage and boutonniere boxes rested on the seat beside him in the back of the plush limo, the last one they had after the rabid rush. His stomach twisted in a knot, and his tie felt too tight.

Her parents met him at the door where he pulled up. Her mother was everything Betty would be in twenty years, complete with a radiant smile and porcelain skin. Her father was wary but polite, the sentiment written clearly in his gray eyes that if he disrespected his daughter, he was meat. He was shown inside the impeccably polished foyer, and Hal Cooper’s voice boomed up the steps.

“Betty! Your date’s here!”

“Hurry down here, sweetie! Wait til you see him!” Alice cheered before she darted off. “Let me get my camera!” He stifled a sigh but felt a smile crack his face. He was due back at his own house with Betty in tow for more of the same.

He turned at the sound of high heels clicking against hardwood floors before the soft thump at the top of the stairs. He waited expectantly, leaning against the newel post. Blue chiffon filled his vision until his eyes reached her face.”

“Wow.”

“I like him already, Betty,” her mother quipped dryly, “he already knows the right thing to say. No need to ever say anything else! You can stop at ‘Wow!’” Reggie heard her father’s low chuckle but only saw Betty as she descended the stairs. She clutched an absurdly small purse, and a matching wrap, equally impractical, floated around her shoulders. Her smile was soft and warm, and her eyes swept over him with delight. 

“You look good,” she gasped. “Look at you!” Her eyes slowly roamed over him, shock coloring her voice. She looked like she wanted to gobble him up, which sent a tingle down his spine.

“He cleans up nice,” her father drawled as she reached the foot of the stairs. Reggie’s hands itched to stroke her. Instead he handed her the box with his boutonniere while her mother charged her digital camera. Betty’s fingers shook, but she mastered it as she used the pin to fasten the white rose to his lapel. His fingers were warm and smooth against her wrist as he slid on the corsage, and he felt the leap in her pulse. His arm fit neatly into the nook of her narrow waist as her mother snapped roughly a half dozen shots, blinding him again, but not as much as the first glimpse of Betty on the stairs.

 

~0~

 

The leather upholstery felt cool at her back, and she shivered at the press of his shoulder against hers, feeling the faint chafe of his jacket. Her fingers crept into his just as the setting sun shone inside the car, illuminating his handsome profile, burnished skin and glossy dark hair.

“This is all just…wow,” she gushed, feeling idiotic at her lack of anything else to say.

“Is this a good ‘wow’? Does that mean we don’t have to say anything else all night long?” Betty grinned and suppressed a snort behind her purse.

“Feel free to articulate, Mr. Mantle,” she invited saucily.

“Okay. Let me start with ‘Betty, you look fantastic tonight.’”

“Oooooh. That’s a nice start.” She batted lightly mascara’ed lashes at him. He smirked.

“Your turn.”

“This is better than I could have imagined.” Her eyes pinned him, soft as blue velvet, and he knew she was talking about him.

His mom nearly had a coronary when they stepped out of the car, armed with her camera and ten thousand questions; Ricky Mantle stood by and relinquished the privilege of quizzing them about their plans.

Reggie helped Betty back into car and felt his father clap a hand over his shoulder.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“C’mere a sec, son,” he gestured, his voice low. Reggie nodded back to Betty, holding up an index finger to her to wait. His dad pulled him aside and he felt him press a roll of bills into his hand. “Enjoy yourselves. Show off how nice she looks and watch her curfew if she has one.”

“Dad, she’s eighteen!” Reggie rolled his eyes.

“She’s a nice girl,” he corrected his son. His face brooked no argument, and there was a hint of steel beneath his smile.

“I know.” It took the wind from his sails, but Ricky still felt immeasurable pride for his only child.

“Treat her right.” Another hearty slap on the back and Reggie was off.

“Now that we’re half blind from the pictures, let’s eat,” Betty suggested.

 

~0~

Hiram Lodge was seeing red. His daughter’s scandalous dress, her miscreant date’s hair that confirmed he was demon spawn, and the state of his bank balance once he was done footing the tab. His wife, in her infinite wisdom, planned everything down to the last detail and outfitted her only daughter’s prom as lavishly as a socialite’s wedding. His house would be packed to the rafters shortly before midnight until the crack of dawn, and he hoped he wouldn’t need his twelve-gage rifle if anyone got out of line in the pool house.

He was young once.

That thought kept him up at night.

His daughter was running late with her preparations. The stylist she hired canceled three bookings to accommodate Veronica’s needs, knowing the money was better than what she’d make on any other prospective bookings. Money talked, but Lodge money practically sang.

“Daddiekins?” Her voice was the same charming, mischievous purr she’ won him over with since the age of three, the effect entirely different now that it issued from glossy red lips.

She stood at the top of the staircase, looking so much like her mother, complete with the same sloe-eyed gleam that made him throw himself at her feet.

He cleared his throat and snapped out of it. “That dress is almost indecent; Lodges don’t leave the house spilling out of their dresses.”

“Pfft. Oh, Daddy. It’s just a dress.” I’ll only be wearing it for a couple of hour. It’ll look even prettier puddle in the corner tonight… “It’s not like you expect me to go upstairs and change!” she wheedled.

You have a walk-in closet full of ridiculously expensive dresses that prove that I can do exactly that. “Where’s your date?” He checked his watch. “He’s late.”

“No he’s not!” she insisted cheerfully as she retreated back down the hall toward her suite.

“Where are you going?”

“To make an entrance. Tell Smithers to grab the camera, Daddy.” Mr. Lodge knew when he’d been dismissed.

Why couldn’t he have had a son?

To his credit, her date picked a decent corsage and outfitted himself properly, even if he hadn’t bothered to tame that recklessly red hair. He gave all the right answers while he grilled him mercilessly.

“Where are you taking my daughter for dinner?”

“Are you planning on going to college in the fall?”

“Have you got a job?”

“How’s your driving record, son?” It was moot, since his daughter was borrowing his hired limo. But it felt good to exercise his fatherly prerogative and twist the screws.

“What time are you bringing her back?” Again, it was moot. He was coming back with her, bringing half the senior class with her. He was just getting warmed up when he heard his daughter’s steps again. This time Smithers flanked him, camera in hand, and Archie’s face was appropriately dumbstruck.

A chastity belt. He paid his attorneys handsomely enough. Surely they could find a loophole.

In the meantime, Fred Andrews’ despicable son was undressing his daughter with his eyes.

“Toodles, Daddy!” A chaste kiss on his cheek left him with the tang of her expensive perfume burning his nostrils and unease in his stomach. His wife’s smile faltered as he stomped off to the den.

 

~0~

“What should we get?”

“Anything you want, babe.” He winked at her over the edge of the menu. “Don’t worry about being a cheap date.”

“Well…I wasn’t. I’m not.” Her cheeks turned pink. An odd silence hung between them, and Reggie read her mind. >i>You’re just paying for dinner. Not me. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve got my eye on the chicken.” Her face softened.

“Make that two. Reggie?”

“Yeah, Bets?”

“Are you…having a good time? With me?” He rocked back in his seat.

“Are you kidding? We’re going to prom, we’re in a nice restaurant, you look gorgeous…almost as much as I do,” he qualified to make her roll her eyes, “and you get to show me if you dance as well as you bowl. Why wouldn’t I be having a good time?”

“Because you seem like you have something on your mind.” He toyed with the edge of the cloth napkin, folded to look like a hat. “Everything’s fine.” His talk with Archie made him see red and lingered like a smoke cloud. Betty looked unsure as she sipped her water. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m…fine. Fine.” His expression was troubled, and she stammered, “Reg, everything’s great. You did a lot to make this really special. And I’m having a good time with you. It’s becoming a habit.” Her smile was slow but radiant, and her eyes stroked him, making him tingle.

“I want to make you happy.” His voice was earnest, and it surprised him when he heard those words escaping him.

“Mission accomplished.” He leaned forward and drummed his fingers against the rim of his plate.

“Bets…are you sorry Arch didn’t take you?”

“No.” Her answer was swift and curt. “Why?” His sigh was heavy.

“Man, I hate this…Ronnie’s having a party by her pool after the dance.”

“I know.” Then she added, “Archie told me.” He failed to keep the scowl from his face.

“When did you talk to him?”

“It was nothing. He called me. He mentioned Ron’s shindig. I haven’t talked to her that much this week,” she hedged. Now since her disastrous afternoon at Pop’s.

He fiddled with his fork. “Well? What do you want to do?”

“Go to the prom. Dance. Drink punch.”

“And then what?” A hint of his previous smile crept back to his lips.

“Surprise me.”

Shit. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

The waiter took their order. Reggie regretted that he couldn’t ask for a stiff drink.

Their conversation was stilted at first, but gradually evolved to half-veiled questions and furtive looks across the table.

“How’s the chicken?”

“It’s…chickeny.”

“Can I have a taste?” Betty carved a plump bite and speared it with her fork, preparing to deposit it on the rim of his plate.

“Ah-ah,” he protested before capturing her wrist, not missing the jump in her pulse. He guided the fork to his mouth and engulfed the morsel, stroking her wrist with his thumb. She quivered and felt a current of excitement between her thighs.

“Stop that,” she protested, and her cheeks were flaming as he sucked the sauce from the tines.

“Just getting that last taste. All I wanted was a taste,” he cajoled. His words held mischief and contradicted the twinkle in his eyes. She didn’t recognize her own voice.

“That’s…all you wanted?” He shook his head slowly, his smile spreading lazily and making excitement fizz in her stomach.

“Check, please!”

Reggie couldn’t remember ever leaving a restaurant so fast; he hadn’t even finished laying the tip on the table before she dragged him outside. They swept out through the swinging doors, and she tugged him behind the building into a small nook behind the shrubs, skillfully evading their waiting chauffeur.

“Betty…MMMPHH!” She leaned up and devoured his mouth, her lips hot and demanding. His body responded violently, every muscle tensing, his blood singing through his veins. He grew uncomfortably hard, and the bulge in his dress slacks swelled as Betty pressed herself against him; a tiny whimper escaped her as he dominated the kiss. Each time he’d break away, she’d feather kisses over his lips and draw his head back down for more, and he groaned his approval. His palms molded her body, sheathed in the silky chiffon, providing little to no barrier between them. Her curves begged to be explored; his fingers tangled briefly in the overlay of her skirt as he skimmed her ass, firm, sweet and tempting. Her palm skimmed over him, gently peeling back the opening of his jacket to feel his hard chest. His boutonniere would be the worse for wear, but he didn’t give a shit. She tasted too damned good.

His chest heaved; he sucked in a strangled breath. “I thought you were a good girl, Bets.”

“You tell me. Am I good? At this?”

“That’s not what I meant." His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip. His hand was shaking. She leaned in to his touch; her cheek felt smooth as satin.

“Am I?”

He swallowed thickly, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She straightened his lapel and they returned to the car.

 

~0~

“How’d you sneak these in here?”

“Daddy has a whole bunch of these in the wet bar.” Veronica handed Cheryl and Maria each an airline bottle of vodka that she extracted from her purse. They escaped though the exit of the girls’ locker room and snuck out cups of fruit punch with blank chunks of pineapple floating in it.

“Now it’s jungle juice,” Cheryl pronounced as she spiked hers with a liberal dose of the clear liquor. The buxom redhead was shrink-wrapped in black satin, and she grimaced after a hearty gulp. “Ooooh, that burns!”

“Frankie’s gonna wonder why I didn’t kick down,” Maria tsked before downing hers.

“There’s more where this came from,” Veronica shrugged.

“You’re a bad influence,” Cheryl pouted. She swigged the rest straight from the bottle.

“Sure, I’m corrupting you,” Veronica muttered, rolling her eyes as she uncapped another bottle. Just as they were chucking the empty containers into the trash, they saw tail lights rounding the circular driveway on the west side of the building.

“Let’s see who it is,” Maria cried, and they hurried out to the front courtyard.

“Oh, my God, it’s Betty! Look who she’s with!” Cheryl clapped her hand over her mouth. “Reggie MANTLE?”

“Please,” Veronica huffed, waving it away. ‘Who cares? It was a last minute thing. She was desperate.” They didn’t have to know that Betty was all set to go stag, or with Archie. What they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.

“What do you mean?” asked Maria as she stared at the elegant ripple of blue chiffon swirling out behind Betty as Reggie escorted her inside. “Doesn’t look last minute to me. Look at them! That’s a sweet limo! And look at her dress!”

“She made it herself,” Veronica sniffed. “Big deal.”

“Hello? That only took WEEKS! She’s probably been planning this forever!” Cheryl pointed out. “They look nice together.”

“I guess.” Veronica wasn’t in the mood to give her credit, even to snooty, bitchy Cheryl.

“Hope she came prepared, though.” This time the redhead was smug.

“Why?”

“She won’t be wearing that dress long.” Cheryl’s voice was sly. Veronica prodded her.

“Dish.”

“He’s good,” Cheryl informed her. “I just hope she doesn’t expect him to call her in the morning.”

“God, you’re a slut,” Maria snorted. Cheryl shrugged.

“He was good. Scratch that: He was fucking great. I walked funny for three days.”

“Wow.” Maria was impressed.

“She won’t give him any. Bets was never gone all the way.” They followed in Veronica’s wake, fishing mints from their purses to mask the liquor.

“Maybe she’ll change her mind. Reg looks pretty hot.”

“Guess she might as well. She’s not getting any from Archie.”

“Ron…you’re in a snit!”

“I’m fine.” She changed the subject; Maria made a face behind her back. “What time are you coming over?”

“Right afterward. I packed a bag, it’s in the car.” Cheryl held open the door as Ronnie sailed inside.

“Is Betty coming?” Maria wanted to know.

“Reggie knows. They’ll probably come.” Ronnie was counting on it. Arch would be there with bells on. Ronnie planned to rub Betty’s nose in it.

Thegym was cleverly camouflaged in streamers and glitter, the bleachers concealed by the murals Nancy painted with such care. The wrought iron arch was set up as a backdrop for photos, and Moose and Midge were taking their turn.

Reggie was attentive, with rare exceptions, he never left her side. Even so, her eyes wandered.

Archie was sharp in his tux, and he held Veronica a little too closely, dancing just a little too intimately. Once in a while he felt Betty’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze with interest, right before she turned away.

“He’s still with her,” Reggie deadpanned after about the tenth time catching her. “He hasn’t budged. Probably won’t any time soon.”

“Oh!” Her expression was sheepish and guilty. “Yeah.” She reached for the punch ladle. “I know. I’m sorry, that was lame of me to – “ His hand grazed her as he took it from her and deftly filled her cup.

“Know why I’m here right now, Bets?” He handed it to her, but he held it for a moment longer to keep her close, focused on him. His eyes locked onto hers, and her body reacted to his close contact, feeling heat radiating from him. Goosebumps rippled over her flesh.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to be here with you. When you said yes, I thought you wanted to be here with me. Right now, it feels like you’re here with Arch.”

“No,” she protested, panicked.

“That’s what it looks like, Bets.” She shook her head; her lower lip was caught between her teeth.

“That’s not what I want, Reggie. You asked me here…”

“Arch did, too.”

“He turned me down.” He sighed.

“That’s why I’m wondering what this is all about. He’s got that much of a hold on you?” She set down the cup and tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t allow it. “It’s not just that you’re still stuck on him.”

“I’m not!” She didn’t want it to be a lie. He didn’t waver, still wholly unconvinced.

“…it’s that you’re doing the same thing he did to you. You’re treating me like I was your standby date.” She shook her head emphatically.

“No. No, you’re not…oh, God, Reggie, I’m so sorry! Is that what you think?”

“Show me I’m wrong.” Her touch was gentle and she didn’t hesitate to move between him and the refreshment table.

“You were never a standby.” Her palm eased up his chest, molding against his heartbeat. “Reg, I might’ve wanted him to ask me before, but I never planned to just make you or anyone else wait til I made up my mind!” Before he could reply, she asked him “What about me?”

“What about you, Bets?”

“Why did you ask me? You couldn’t asked anyone. Back at the gym, when you were here with your dad, it looked like you were asking her.” His lips tightened, and he carefully peeled her hand from his blazer. She felt bereft at the loss of his touch.

“Don’t trust everything you see. I’m not hung up on Ronnie, and I sure as hell wasn’t asking her to prim when Arch was all over her on the scaffold!” She bit back more questions and backed away.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.”

‘Wait, Bets, where –“

“Give me a minute.” She swept through the crowd in a flash of blue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a swirl of red heading toward the exit.

Veronica.

He threw away his cup of punch and made a beeline for the door. No good could come of this…

~0~

Her heart was pounding in her chest, pulse racing as she dashed cool water into the sink and dampened a paper towel. She draped it over her nape and tried to center herself. She opened her eyes at the sound of Ronnie’s voice and clacking heels. The scent of her perfume was underscored by the faint tang of vodka as she approached. Her face was wreathed in concern that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You okay, Betty, sweetie? I saw you rush off. What’s wrong?” She tugged a lock of her blonde curls “Like your dress.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, using the towel to pat her chest, which had gone clammy. “I’m fine. Just freshening up.”

“You ran out in a hurry.”

“Why are you here, Ron?” Betty cut to the chase.

“I wanted to put on more lipstick, Betty.” She raised one dark brow as she fished the tube from her small clutch. She pursed already glossy lips and caressed them with another coat of scarlet.

“I need you to be straight with me.” Betty learned back against the counter and folded her arms. “Did Reggie ask you to the prom?” Myriad voices inside her head screamed those words, drowning out the answers Reggie gave her mere moments before.

“What? Are you kidding? Why?” She tossed her lipstick into the bag.

Because the answer means everything. “Did he ask you, Ronnie?”

“As if! Archie already asked me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Betty…are you pissed off about Archie? I know you were upset when he didn’t take you – “

“Did you? You didn’t act like it was that big of a deal. I don’t think you know how upset I was.”

“Please, Bets, get that bug out of your butt! You’re here, you’ve got a date! It worked out fine.”

“You just don’t’ get it.” The logic of Veronica’s words was moot.

“C’mon, Betty, get over yourself. Arch is waiting for me.” Ronnie turned her back and headed for the door.

“This is bullshit!” Betty hissed. “You want me to get over MYSELF? God, Ron,” she continued, throwing out her hands. “I don’t get you.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes, feeling Betty bearing down on her in noise high heels. “This is getting boring, Betty! Grow up!”

“No, Ronnie, YOU GROW UP! You’re such a selfish bitch!” Ronnie’s smirk evaporated, replaced by a venomous glare.

“You knew what you were doing. That’s just it. You would've left Arch waiting on his knees while you made up your mind, and then you made up HIS mind for him. It’s because he asked me, isn’t it?”

“First of all, Betty…he asked me way before he did you, and I don’t know why I’m fucking explaining myself to you.” Their raised voices drew the attention of guests lingering at the gym doorway. “All you’ve ever done is chase Archie, and you know it. He’s not into you, Betty, so stop trying so hard. Stick with Reggie. You’ll have plenty of luck getting him to pay attention to you, Betty, but get ready to bend over and kiss his ass. Or go down on him. I wouldn’t put it past you.” Shame burned in Betty’s cheeks as she remembered that night of fumbling in the dark; the cluttered surroundings and musky male scent, his groans, her own choked breathing, all of it made her head spin. Veronica’s words hammered another nail in their friendship. Betty had nothing else to lose.

“That’s funny,” Betty blurted. “That’s really funny, Ron.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Arch thinks he’s getting some tonight, doesn’t he? Did he spend enough on you to seal the deal?” Veronica made a noise of indignant disgust.

“You’re full of shit!”

“God, I hope he doesn’t have his hopes up. Veronica, you could freeze icicles on your ass!” A small crowd began to gather in the lobby, and shocked gasps drifted toward Betty’s ears. “You couldn’t be happy for me! He asked me, and you couldn’t stand to see me get excited over what you didn’t have!” She was so focused on Veronica that she didn’t feel a pair of coffee brown eyes raking over her.

“You never had him! That makes you pathetic! Reggie just pitied you, and you’re the one dangling your pussy over his head!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“Oh, you wish, Betty!” Betty’s blood ran cold when Veronica stared over her shoulder and smiled. “Did you miss your date, Reggie?”

“Hey.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ronnie,” he nodded. His face was calm but bore the beginnings of a scowl.

“Ask him what you asked me, Betty,” Veronica challenged. “Go on.”

“Shut up.”

“She asked me if you ever asked me to the prom before her.” She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “It’s important for her to know.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Betty’s heart sank, and a chill crept over her skin. “Betty,” he murmured, “I don’t know what else to tell you.” She shivered at the feel of warm fingers covering her bare shoulder, and at the shame that washed over her. “Except this: I saw you walk out with Archie that night.”

“Wait…what?”

“I figured you were waiting for him. I hated it. You’re too good for him, and you’re to good for Ronnie, too. So I asked Ronnie…” Betty felt like she’d been socked in the gut.

“I see.” He opened his mouth to say more, but she shushed him.

“That’s fine.” She shook off his hand. Blood roared in her ears, and she felt her pulse throbbing in her neck.

“Betty! I asked Ron if –“

“I know. Just leave it!” She looked stricken. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.” She was already picking up her skirts as she backed away from him. “I said it’s fine! So go ahead, Reggie, ask her again! Save him a dance, Ronnie, you bitch! Knock yourself out! I HATE YOU, VERONICA!”

“Ronnie, what’d you do – Betty? BETS! Where are you going? Come back, Betty!” She was a shining blur, cutting a swath through the people staring at the scene. He spun on Reggie stonily. “What’d you do, what’d you say to her?” He closed the space between them, raising Reggie’s hackles sharply.

“Back the fuck off!”

“She runs off upset, and you’re standing right here when I come out!”

“Ask Ronnie,” Reggie grated out. “She’s standing right there.” He jabbed his finger at her, and she had the grace to look guilty. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Oh, come one, Reggie, she’s making a big deal out of nothing.”

“That’s what you wanted her to do.” Archie tried to follow Betty until he was yanked back roughly.

“Don’t. Leave her alone.”

“I told you not to hurt her!” Archie’s finger was perilously close to Reggie’s teeth. That tore it.

POW! Reggie’s knuckles smarted, and all he heard was Ronnie’s shriek over the collective murmurs of the crowd. A muted chorus of “Holy shit!” trailed in his wake.

“Don’t let him follow me,” he ordered, regarding Veronica with disdain.

…Betty, I asked Ronnie if you already had a date. The words never came when he needed them. He had to get her alone.


	8. No Curfew?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caps and gowns, after parties, and no more excuses.

“Man, Bets, that’s harsh,” Nancy soothed while the girls stood in line at the Cinnabon shop at the Riverdale Shopping Center. Betty miserably scanned the menu while Ethel ordered a small lemonade and a large bun. Betty had hoped that the noise and bustle of the mall would perk her up, along with the empty calories and rich aroma of junk food. It hadn’t kicked in yet.

She still felt like crap.

“Ronnie’s such a bitch sometimes. I mean, she’s my friend, but then I see her doing stuff like this to her other friends.” Ethel waited off to the side as Nancy placed her own order. Betty leaned glumly against the counter. “Almost makes me glad I don’t have a boyfriend to steal.”

“Neither do I,” Betty sniffed. “It just sucks. I mean, it’s not like I was in love with Reg, or anything, but…I liked him. I was really starting to like him, and we had fun together. Lots of fun.”

“Really?” Ethel probed. “Like, was he good boyfriend material?”

“Pfft,” Nancy gagged. “Reggie Mantle’s slick, girl. You can do better than that, even if he doesn’t think anyone can do any better than him.” They paid for their food and retired to a nearby round table in the court. Betty absently unrolled the coil of pastry and licked the icing from her fingers.

“I hate it. Everyone’s talking about it,” she complained.”

“They aren’t talking about you as much as they are Ronnie and Reg,” Nancy pointed out.

“And Archie,” Ethel reminded her. “Reggie got him good. I almost peed my pants!” Ethel had made it to the prom and contented herself with taking her visiting cousin. Betty teased Jughead that he didn’t know what he missed by turning her down. “Guess I’ll always wonder,” he sighed, uninterested.

That opened the flood gates for more lectures from Juggie about her folly in asking Arch to the prom in the first place, let alone going with Reg.

“Talk about the lesser of two evils,” he muttered during study hall. “What were you THINKING?”

“I wanted to go to the prom,” she shrugged. “Thought I wanted Arch to take me, but look what happened. He totally flaked!”

“So you go with Reggie. Bets, this is the guy who used to pull your pigtails in third grade. He hasn’t stopped being an asshole.” She wanted to argue with him but was drawing a blank.

A brief memory flashed in her mind’s eye of Reg winding a tendril of her hair around his finger after he kissed her. She closed her eyes and shivered.

Why did life have to treat her like shit? She’d been good, hadn’t she? She played by the rules!

In the meantime, shopping therapy wasn’t helping much.

“I have a pair of shoes on hold,” Nancy piped up as she finished her bun and scrubbed her fingers with a paper napkin.

“I already have my dress picked out,” Ethel boasted. “Wait’ll you see it!”

“I have a white sundress that I already wore last summer that still fits and doesn’t look bad,” Betty decided.

“Live a little, Betty.” Nancy fished in her pocketbook for her Wrigley’s and handed both girls a piece. “Get something! It’s no fun shopping unless we all walk out with something new! No leaving empty-handed.” Betty sighed. “C’mon!” Nancy prodded again.

“I don’t need anything,” she protested. Ethel was shaking her head and looping her arm through hers, beginning to drag her toward a Wet Seal.

“Less talking. More shopping,” she chided her. Betty spent the next hour as a reluctant dress dummy as both of her friends pulled dress after dress from the racks and held them against her. She made several trips back into the dressing room until they found what they deemed the one dress she couldn’t leave without.

And earrings to go with it.

Ethel eventually parted ways with them, pleading an errand she swore to run for her mother.

“I just don’t know how she could do this shit. She’s supposed to be my best friend.”

“You’re her purse holder,” Nancy explained. “You get the thrill of being with her everywhere she goes and watching her operate. It’s entertaining, but ultimately, you end up holding the purse.”

“That’s depressing, Nancy.”

“You’re not telling me I’m wrong.”

“You’re mean,” she pouted back, sticking out her bottom lip for emphasis.

“You’re so lucky to have Chuck.”

“He knows his place.”

“And where might that be?”

“Begging,” she tossed back, making Betty giggle. “Can’t let a man get too cocky. You can’t give him too much. He might take you for granted.”

“He can kiss.”

“Who?”

“Reggie. I mean, he can KISS.” Betty fanned herself.

“Dang, Betty!” Nancy crowed. “That good?”

“Hoo, yeah,” she agreed. “Boy has mad skills.”

“Uh-oh. Now she’s talking about mad skills…you didn’t, ya know?” Betty shook her head.

“That’s why I hate this. I just feel like we left it at a loose end.”

“Were you planning on doing it with him?” They arrived at Nancy’s house and hopped out of her tiny, well-used Civic. “It’s probably just as well that you didn’t, after what happened.”

“He’s not speaking to me.”

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t know what to say. I’m embarrassed. I feel like I treated him like shit.”

“What were you supposed to think? Ronnie twisted things around, and you were still mad at Archie, and there he is, showing up right when Reggie can see it.”

“It was a mess. A big, freakin’ mess.”

“Talk to him, then. Make the first move.” Nancy set her books down and motioned for Betty to do the same. Finals were at the end of the week, and they planned a sugar-fueled cram session to prepare.

“I can’t.”

“You said you like him.”

“I do. I just…I don’t know.”

“You’ll always wonder about what you could have said to him if you don’t say anything,” Nancy tsked. “Talk to him.” Nancy walked over to the phone and picked up the handset. “Here. Call him!”

“NO!” Betty was agape. “Not NOW!”

“Call. Him.” Nancy was implacable, shaking the handset at her and shoving it under her nose with her hand on her hip.

“Nance,” Betty argued. Nancy gave her “The Look” with raised eyebrows and quirked mouth. Betty rolled her eyes and took the phone.

“You’re killing me,” Betty moaned as she dialed.

“You’ll thank me later.” Nancy retired to the fridge to get some milk. Betty waited nervously while his phone rang. Her stomach twisted into a knot, and she felt flushed. Darn cinnamon roll…it felt like a lump in her gut.

It rang once. Twice. Betty chewed her fingertail until Nancy reminded her to stop. Three times…

“Hello?” Her heart nearly stopped. Betty wrung her hand and paused. 

His voice sounded…yummy. She missed the sound of it.

“Hello?” he repeated impatiently.

“Oh…uh, hi. Reg. It’s me, Bets.” She pressed onward, hoping to get it all out at once. “I wanted to talk to you, if you’re not too busy. I didn’t know if I’d catch you at home, but I, uh, wanted to call.” After a moment of silence, he sighed. 

That didn’t bode well.

“What’s on your mind, Bets?”

“You. I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at the prom.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” she pressed on. “I was having a good time, and I ruined it. I was a total bitch for saying all the shit that I did. It wasn’t fair. I made a mistake.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, “you did.” She pictured him leaning back with his arms folded over his chest, brow cocked.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I hated what Ronnie was saying.”

“What else did she say?”

“She said that I chased Archie, and that he never wanted me, but that I just didn’t have a clue. She acted like it was just so funny that I kept beating myself on the head, and that you just…y’know, went with me out of pity.”

“Wow,” he mused under his breath. “That’s shitty. I guess it makes sense, now.” Nancy pretended interest in her trigonometry book as she stared at Betty’s back while she paced. “Pity. I don’t rent a limo for a pity date.” His tone suggested that there was a first time for everything.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Reg.”

“That’s all?” he accused dryly. “That’s why you called?”

“No. I missed you. You won’t talk to me.” Her voice was lowered. Nancy took the hint and tiptoed out of the kitchen, not waiting for Betty to shoo her out. “So I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk away. Why didn’t you talk to me at school? Were you worried people might talk about it if they saw us?” She guiltily realized that it was true, and she felt ashamed.

“No. I should have just talked to you; I wanted to. I still want to.” She shyly admitted. “I like you, Reggie. A lot.”

His sigh was less heavy, and then, “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. It sounded lame, even to her.

“God, Betty,” he groaned. “You’re driving me nuts. You get mad that Archie let you dangle, but you’re doing the same to me. Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Do you still have a thing for Arch?”

Her breath caught. Well, shit.

Did she?

No. Really. No.

Two weeks had gone by where she’d avoided talking to him in the halls and gave Ronnie the cut direct when she walked past their usual table in the cafeteria. Betty was tired. Enough was enough.

They’d had one awkward conversation when he caught up to her at her locker. He’d had the weekend after the prom to let his bruised eye heal, but the dark purple tissue was still fading to yellow. The gossip mongers at Riverdale High were still having a field day with it.

She heard his voice at her elbow as she put away her science book. “Hey.” He leaned against the adjoining locker with his hands tucked into his pockets.

He was still floppy-haired and boyish. Her stomach still flipped when she saw him, but the look they shared was tense and uncomfortable.

“Hey.” She closed her locker and stepped back, making him straighten. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. You headed to class?” It was ninth period. Of course she was headed to class. It wasn’t a creative opener.

“Uh-huh.” She began to move through the milling students, and he kept up with her nimbly. She waved hi to some of her friends in an effort to be nonchalant, but her heart was pounding.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“I’ve been busy. Getting ready for finals. Helping Mom with some stuff.”

“Yeah. It’s almost over.”

“Seems like everything’s going so fast.” 

“Not fast enough. I cant’ wait to be out of here.” Graduation day was looming around the corner, and truth be told, Betty was scared out of her wits.

“What are you gonna do after the summer?” she asked politely.

“Junior college for a year, then transfer to state. You?”

“State. I got financial aid and a dorm. Early admission.” He rocked back on his heels.

“Wow. That’s great, Bets.”

“I’m pretty stoked about it.” And she was. Her mother danced her around the kitchen when they got the acceptance letter in the mail.

“Gonna be here for the summer?” His tone was hopeful.

“I might go to my parents’ cabin that they rent every summer. Or I might just work at the animal shelter again. I’ll be pretty busy. But hey, I’ll get going. ‘Bye!” He looked slightly crestfallen as she dismissed him before they’d even reached her class.

~0~

So, there it was.

Reggie’s question hung in mid-air.

“I don’t feel that way about him anymore.”

“Just since the prom?”

“No. Since everything. It wasn’t just that he broke our date.”

“Sure it wasn’t.” He was unappeased.

“No, it wasn’t. It was how he treated me, and how he let Ronnie treat me, when she decided to have him take her after all.”

“You let her treat you like that for a long time. Everyone saw it, Betty. You’ve always been her sidekick.” Betty flushed with irritation. It was one thing hearing that sentiment from someone like Nancy, but from someone she’d basically called to apologize to, it was bitter.

“Really. That’s what you think.”

“Tell me I’m lying.”

“I didn’t know it was so funny watching me just be a sidekick. Glad I entertained you.”

“It didn’t. It’s not funny. Not one bit, Betty. You think I like watching you let her kiss her ass?” At her shocked gasp of outrage, he continued. “You cant always worry about what everyone thinks, Betty. We’re almost out of school. You won’t see most of these people after this summer! I know I’m gonna be working for my dad here in town. I know I’ll be glad when I’m off at school and I won’t have to worry about going out on a Friday and hearing people talk about me on Monday. You can do what you want. You can see who you want. You’re eighteen and almost free of this school!”

“Reggie…you’re right. Fine. You’re right. I’m just sorry. I was mad at what happened. Not just because anyone would talk, but because our night was ruined, too. Ronnie pissed me off and said a lot of shit that hurt my feelings. But right now, they still hurt because you think I can’t think for myself, and you’re mad at me. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“Betty…” He sounded like he was searching for words. 

“I don’t like playing games, Reggie. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I did. I want to make this better, but I don’t know how.”

“That’s what made it so weird. You’ve never played games, Betty. Not since I’ve known you.” This time she sighed.

“I’ll get going. I won’t get in your way anymore today.” She swallowed around a lump. “Bye.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You call me to say you’re sorry, and you tell me you like me…” He let his words trail off.

“I did say that.”

“You like me.” He sounded unconvinced.

“Yes. But I won’t bother you about it. Talk to you later.” Betty gently hung up. When Nancy came back, she was leaning her head back against the wall with her eyes closed.

“Wow. That didn’t sound good at all.”

“It’s all your fault. You made me call him.”

“You told him you were sorry.”

“He’s still mad at me.”

“You did what you were supposed to do. You tried to make up with him. So no more guilt. C’mon, back to the books.” She fished a package of Oreos out of the cupboard, and they set to work.

~0~

Back up in his room, Reggie flopped back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

“Why. Why. WHY?” he muttered into the silence.

She just had to tell him she liked him. And that she wouldn’t bother him about it???

“Shit.”

…what if he wanted her to bother him about it???

 

The last day of finals ticked by torturously slow. Betty’s hand ached from writing and scribbling in bubble sheet answers and her pencils were all dull, but she felt a rush of joy at the last bell of the day.

She wasn’t alone. Shrieking and hoots filled the school courtyard as students spilled outside. She dodged a binder that someone threw up in the air, just to watch the papers flap loose and spill to the ground. They were free!

Ethel and Nancy caught up to her and linked arms. “We’re done! What next?”

“Home.”

“Then what?”

“The beach?”

“Heck, yeah!” Nancy agreed. “Let’s ditch this popsicle stand!”

They all rushed home to each other’s homes to grab suits, towels and snacks. Betty rubbed sunscreen on her face and limbs before she even left her house, since her skin was delicate.

It felt exciting, knowing she didn’t have school the next day or a test to study for. She could stay up late, sleep in late…no homework, no projects, no cheerleading practice. Life was good.

The girls talked a mile a minute in Nancy’s car and blasted her stereo with the windows open, not caring who stared at them from the street. Betty smelled the salt and spray from the parking lot as they showed the attendant their sticker. Heat roasted her toes through her thin sandals as they crossed the asphalt. Ethel found them a spot near the snack shack.

They watched Midge walk by in a tiny red bikini and waved. Moose was almost a meter away, working his shift as a lifeguard. They caught him watching her and waved to him, too. His smile was goodnatured and friendly.

“He’s cute. Just a great big teddy bear. Why does she always run around on him?”

“Because she can,” Ethel replied sourly. “Granted, he’s not the brightest bulb, but he’s nice! What a waste.”

The girls played a game of “boxers or briefs” as various beachgoers milled by. Gradually more of their classmates showed up and set up a volleyball net. Betty took a short dip up to her waist in the water at Ethel’s behest before deciding it was too cold and there was too much seaweed.

She was just warming herself in the sun, lying on her back when a long shadow loomed over her body. Icy droplets of water dashed themselves on her skin.

“ACK!” she cried, quickly sitting up. She squinted up into Reggie’s sardonic face. His dark hair was sleek and shining, forming ringlets from being wet.

His skin was already bronzed from occasional time at the beach, and he wore long red and black board shorts as his swim trunks. He was dripping, his chest bare and broad. Betty stared at him, feeling a frisson of excitement at how sexy he looked, muscular, half-naked and wet.

“Think you can just be lazy now that school’s out, huh? What about that job you said you had at the shelter?”

“Look who’s talking, Clark Kent,” she accused back. His lips twisted at her use of the nickname.

“No. You’re the one I caught napping, so I get to grill you first.”

“Grill away,” she offered, making room for him on her beach towel. They watched the waves rising on high tide, threatening to wash away a girl’s crumbling sandcastle. 

“Why did you hang up?”

“Because I didn’t know what else to say. And because you didn’t have much of an answer when I said that I liked you.”

“What did you want me to say?”

“What do you think, Reg? Hello?” She gave an emphatic shrug and an impatient stare. He read frustration in her crystal blue eyes.

“Tell me!” he prodded. He playfully bumped her shoulder with his. Betty was glad that Ethel was still swimming and that Nancy had gone off to the bathroom. His skin was chilled from the water, and she shivered. He felt solid and smooth.

“How about ‘Gee, Bets, I like you too? And I won’t let you keep putting your foot in your mouth, wondering how I feel?’”

“Women,” he grunted. “Always gotta be so specific…” He was still staring out across the water. His posture relaxed as he leaned back on his hands. “So you like me.”

“We already went over that. YES, Reg, I LIKE you!” she practically shouted.

“Good.” His voice was matter-of-fact and filled with satisfaction.

“That’s all you can say…GOOD???” She felt her face turning beet red – as usual – and she wanted to slug him. The conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“Nope.” He turned to face her, and his expression was wicked.

Heat flooded the sensitive zone between her legs at that look. He eyed her up and down, taking in her creamy skin, athletic legs and lean curves in her aquamarine bikini. Her nipples stiffened; Betty inwardly blamed the wind.

“Then what?”

“I’ll tell you what. Just come on.” He rose and reached for her. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her to her feet. He pulled her after him like a kid with a secret. She trotted to keep up with his long legs, inadvertently kicking up sand.

“Reggie!”

“Move it, slowpoke!” he scolded, but he gradually caught her hand instead. To anyone watching, they looked like an attractive young couple who were a study in physical opposites, but who still had chemistry.

Ethel nudged Nancy as she approached to buy a soda.

“What’s going on?”

“Look who decided to pay attention to what was in front of his face,” Ethel chuckled.

“Her, or him?” Nancy challenged. Ethel nodded in agreement.

They walked until they reached a stretch of beach that wasn’t as heavily populated, and Reggie dragged her over toward the jetty. He sat on a huge rock and spread apart his knees, tugging her until she stood between them. His fingers feathered over her skin as his hands circled her waist. His skin felt supple and hot beneath her hands as she laid them on his shoulders.

“I like you,” he announced firmly. “A lot. I guess I didn’t think I had to explain myself, but you proved me wrong. Get it through your pretty little head, Elizabeth Cooper. I. Like. You,” he spelled out slowly, so he wouldn’t be mistaken. Her face softened, and she gave him a lopsided smile.

“Jerk,” she murmured, but she was already moving in more closely and tightening her embrace. 

“Sure, call me names when I tell you how I feel,” he teased, but his brown eyes were full of mischief. “So are we good, now?” She nodded as his hands ran up her back.

“You had me worried. I didn’t think you were gonna speak to me anymore.”

“Ditto.” His fingers were driving her crazy, tracing light patterns over her back.

“I didn’t want you to stay mad.” She gave him a butterfly kiss on the edge of his hairline, then trailed them down his temple.

“I couldn’t.” He was leaning into her caress and nuzzling her back.

“Maybe you didn’t notice, but I’m really stoked right now that you showed up today.”

“I didn’t notice. Show me,” he murmured against her lips before he crushed them in a hard, thorough kiss that made tingles of electricity bring every nerve in her body to live.

The sounds of the gulls and waves faded away for Betty. Each kiss seemed endless and made her dizzy. He lingered in the satiny interior of her mouth, hearing her moan in approval.

They only stopped a few minutes later when a different lifeguard came along and reminded them to get off of the jetty.

 

Graduation Night:

“Elizabeth Cooper!” Mr. Wetherbee’s voice boomed through the microphone, and her legs felt like rubber as Betty trotted up the short flight of steps to take her diploma. Her palm sweated as she gripped the small, hard folio and shook his hand. She almost wanted to kiss his plump cheek from excitement.

“And I’d like to introduce Elizabeth here as our salutatorian of Riverdale High School this year,” he added proudly. She didn’t have sour grapes for Dilton, who’d earned valedictorian. He was a shoe-in.

She wanted to ignore Veronica’s brief, imploring look from her row as she hurried back to her seat. Archie sat in the row ahead of her, since they’re names were close in the alphabet. He craned his neck around to smile at her.

“Congrats, Killer,” he grinned. She grinned, then stuck out her tongue.

“Now I’m off to the White House,” she quipped. 

“Why not?”

“Because she’s coming to my house next,” Ethel reminded them. “I’m having a barbecue tonight!” 

“I’m gonna be at Ron’s. You gonna stop by?” he asked Betty.

“Probably not.”

“She mentioned you today.”

“Goodie for me.” Betty’s smile faded. “Tell her I said congratulations.” She still felt a pang of guilt at not talking to Ronnie, but that was it. She was done. A friendship that lasted most of her lifetime was over all in one night.

Archie sighed. “Why don’t you stop by and tell her yourself.” He turned back and faced the stage. Betty stared down at her diploma miserably, until she watched the last of the graduated file across the stage, jumping up and cheering loudly as they called Reggie Mantle.

Betty narrowly missed getting hit between the teeth with a flying cap as they all went up into the air. She was jubilant.

She was looking for Reggie.  
~0~

 

Her hand was stiff from shaking so many at her parents’ and she practically had whiplash from all the hugs. Betty let her dad snap pictures of her cutting the enormous cake, wearing the dress Ethel and Nancy nagged her to buy. 

A half an hour into the festivities, she went to answer a knock on the door.

Ethel and Nancy were looking impish, already garbed in comfortable jeans and halter tops. Ethel looked surprisingly pretty in a black handkerchief top that exposed her back and with her hair down, flipped up at the ends. 

“I thought I was meeting you at your place,” Betty wailed. “I’m not even ready yet!”

“Look nice, though,” Jughead offered as he bounded up the steps after them.

“Juggie!” she whooped as she gave him a crushing hug.

“Oof,” he grunted. “Watch my ribs!”

“Lightweight,” she nagged. “C’mon, let’s have something to eat, or a drink.”

“I’m eating at my place.”

“Then let’s have a drink.”

“Soda?”

“My mom promised me a ‘thimbleful’ of wine,” Betty gloated.

“Ooooh. You party animal, you,” Jughead kidded, but he was game. As promised, her mother handed each of them a wine goblet and poured a teaspoon of white Zinfandel into each. It was just enough to make a toast. Everyone clapped for Betty, and she felt like a star.

The party was in full swing when someone else knocked on the door.

“Reggie!” she cried breathlessly. His smile was sly, and he gave her the once-over, taking in her white, spaghetti-strapped dress that laced across the back. Her hair was down for a change, curled and finger-combed into loose waves.

“You look hot!” he exclaimed, and he tugged her into a kiss that could only be called the same.

“Reg, my neighbors might be watching!” she squeaked, but she didn’t pull away.

“You taste good,” he murmured into her neck, oblivious. She melted against him and sighed, and she looked up into his face.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Good. Now let’s get out of here.”

“I’m headed to Ethel’s.”

“Tell her you’ll come by tomorrow!”

“I can’t!”

“Then we’ll tell her together,” he shrugged. 

He was up to something.

“I promised her.”

“I know. Betty the Girl Scout, on my honor, blah blah blah,” he nagged, holding up his hand in the scout salute. “Live a little!”

“You’re a bad influence.” He gave her a wolfish look before kissing her again. His tongue darted into hers and stroked her, and her fingers clutched handfuls of his wonderfully thick hair.

Desire pooled her belly when he gripped her hips and ground against her. Betty thanked God that the porch light wasn’t on…

He palmed her ass, testing its warm firmness as he pressed his knee between her thighs. Instinctively she ground against it, moaning and writhing in his embrace.

“Damn it, Betty!” he hissed into her neck.

“Shit!” she hissed back, eyes closed and head thrown back. “We’ve got to stop, someone might come out here. My FATHER might come out here,” she warned.

“I’ll tell him you had something in your eye,” he offered. She was backed up against the door and grinding against his hardness now. Her hands caressed him through his polo shirt. He felt firm and solid and was making her lose control…Betty’s nipples hardened into stiff points against his chest. Briefly, he reached up to brush one through the thin acetate of her dress. “Betty…d’you want me?” He felt her nod and moan in agreement.

Click… They sprang apart when her mother came to the door. 

“What was all that noise?” she accused.

“Huh?” 

“I wondered who was out here ringing the doorbell,” she muttered, tsking with her hands on her hips.

It rang, and rang, and rang when Betty was leaned up against it, making out with Reggie without a care in the world.

Oops…

They inevitably went to Ethel’s house. She seldom strayed from Reggie the entire night. They held hands, they sat together, and she occasionally sat on his lap to conserve seats in her friend’s basement. Archie showed up briefly with Jughead, shot her a look while Reggie was snuggled up to her on the chaise out back, and bailed.

They left Ethel’s and made the rounds to two more parties, staying briefly and shooting the shit. It felt so good to be free.

They gradually went back to Reggie’s house to check in with his parents. She was surprised when he mentioned it and they turned into his driveway.

“Look who’s reporting to Mommy and Daddy,” she accused, cocking a brow and folding her arms. He grinned and tweaked her nose.

“I told them I was bringing you by. My mom has something for you. Stinker.” She was speechless as he led her inside.

His father greeted them at the door. “Here’s the woman of the hour,” he chuckled, giving her a hug. It felt like hugging her own dad, and Betty beamed. Reggie’s mother was elegant as usual, and she crossed the room with a small package and a card.

“We’re so proud of both of you. You both did so well this year, and now it’s off to college!” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“I just wrapped it,” she replied, eyes dancing. They were so much like her son’s. “Open it.” Betty peeled off the silver foil with shaking hands and butterflies in her stomach.

It was a tiny silver pendant with the two-digit year and a graduation cap and scroll. “Oh, Reggie, you didn’t!” He took the box from her and removed the chain. Ricky Mantle looked smug as his son fastened it around her neck while she lifted up her hair.

“Looks great on you. Congratulations, Betty.”

“Are you two headed to another party?” his mother mused.

“Til we drop,” Reggie agreed. “I’m gone.” Betty’s eyes were round and apologetic as he dragged her back out the door in a way that suggested “don’t wait up.”

His parents stood staring out the picture window after them as his car pulled out of the driveway.

“There goes trouble,” Ricky sighed.

“And what a nice girl to get into trouble with,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Her parents are about ready to kill us, aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“Just checking.”

 

~0~

She almost wished she’d changed into jeans again. Reggie remedied the problem easily when they reached the beach and pulled a backpack out of his trunk.

“I didn’t unpack this from my last trip to my aunt’s. I never wore these while I was there.”

“You think of everything, Mr. Mantle,” she quipped as she took it from him. She unzipped it and helped herself to a dark blue tee shit and a pair of too-big shorts. He watched her meaningfully as she turned her back to change.

“Don’t be shy,” he rumbled. His voice was husky and low, and he ran his fingertip down the length of her arm.

Her eyes were sultry and liquid. “Okay. I won’t.” She leaned over the console and kissed him, wrapping her tongue around his. Slowly, he slid the strap of her dress down past her shoulder, caressing the graceful slope.

He continued what he started on the porch. His touch was gentle as he teased the bodice of her dress down, lower, until her pale pink strapless bra was exposed. He toyed with the tiny bow in the middle.

“You’re so sexy, Betty,” he marveled. He cupped her breast, which seemed to crave his caress. He feathered her nipple with his thumb, and it strained into his touch. Her eyes closed in pleasure, and he kissed her again with growing passion.

“You make me crazy,” she breathed. “You make me feel like I’m not myself.”

“That makes two of us, then. I only feel like this when I’m with you,” he groaned into her mouth.

Her dress was on its last gasp, pushed down to her waist, and he was exploring her body slowly and in fine detail. Her bra lay on the car mat along with her shoes. Betty straddled his lap, having the advantage of his body rippling beneath her. His kisses were languid, liquid and set her on fire. She tugged off his shirt so she could savor the feel of his bare chest, craving the contact of his skin. His car was parked in the back lot of the beach, and they steamed the windows with casual abandon.

“You’re beautiful, Betty!” he gasped as he ground herself against him again. His seat was slid back as far from the dash as it would to go make room for her. He caught her nipple between his teeth and laved it, lapping hungrily at her. Arousal pooled in her center, and she grew wet.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded weakly. Her resolve was slipping with the sensations he was creating with his hands and mouth. It wasn’t just a furtive grope in the dark. Reggie was pleasing her, unselfish and giving, and had his attention focused only on her.

“Lift up, baby,” he whispered, nipping her chin when she cried out. His fingers probed between her legs, stroking the damp sheen of her satin briefs. He found her pearl and rubbed it, acquainting himself with it. Betty moaned and cried out as he created delicious friction and heat. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Reggie!” Her voice was frantic and needy. He scared her. He excited her. He made her forget herself.

She had to tell him.

“Reg, I’m a virgin!” she blurted out, cupping his face in her palms.

He stopped, looking up at her in a haze of confusion.

“You are?” She nodded, embarrassed but still clinging to him. She rested her forehead against his. “So, is this gonna be a problem?”

“No. Kind of. I’m just…scared.” His pupils dilated sharply, and he felt humbled. He cradled her protectively and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Don’t be scared of being with me, Bets. I’ll take care of you. It’s hard when it’s your first time. It’s always a little scary,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” She felt incrementally better, but she read the strain in his face that stopping so abruptly caused him. “Were you scared?”

“I was stoked,” he huffed, chuckling, “but yeah, I was scared. I didn’t want to mess it up. And I think I kinda did, but man! Wow. It didn’t stop me from wanting to do it again, and it got a lot better, even just with the second time.” She leisurely plied him with kisses as he spoke, tracing his features with them. His hands tangled in her lush fall of blonde hair, tousling it and making her look even more wanton.

“I want you so much. I love being with you like this, and I want you, Reggie. I don’t want this night to end because…you just make me feel so much. You’re incredible. I mean that,” she said softly. He looked content and thoughtful. The moonlight and stars cast dim, silvery light over them, and he looked handsome and precious to her in the dark.

Carefully they moved into the back seat of the car, and Betty heard the low zip of his jeans and the snap of something being unwrapped and fitted into place before he loomed over her again. The rest of their clothes ended up in a pile on the front seat. Reggie’s radio played softly in the background as the moved together. Her hands explored his body’s secrets. He was patient and his need for her grew when she reached down to coddle him in her hand.

She was sweet, untried and undid him as he mustered his control and breached her. He felt her clench up around him as he pushed forward as carefully as he could.

“Ow. Ow. Ow,” she chanted slowly until he stopped, peering down at her concern. He looked worried. “It’s okay.”

“I won’t move unless you tell me it’s fine,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. They were tangled together, and he was supporting most of his own weight until she pulled him down to her and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Slowly,” she told him. He held his breath and closed his eyes, drawing back and pushing into her in one smooth thrust.

Her walls stretched and burned, and she ached from the pressure of his filling her, but something about it felt right. She felt him throbbing inside her, and he followed her body’s dictates, moving back when he felt her strain, coming closer when she relaxed.

He wanted to make it right for her. He wanted to take his time, really make love to her, but it was hard on her, causing her pain even though it wasn’t intentional. He was honored that she gave herself to him before anyone else. He wanted to make it worth the wait.

So he caressed her. He kissed her. He whispered over and over again how beautiful and sweet and sexy she was and how good she tasted, and how she was driving him crazy. He felt the rush of his own climax coming and decided to follow where it took him so they could finish, and to end her discomfort.

And she responded to him. She saw the mixture of pleasure and pain cross his features. She felt him strain and hold back, even as he savored her, reveling at the feel of being deep inside her. She held him. She rocked beneath him, taking him in. She squelched the occasion grunt of discomfort when he kissed it better or delighted in her breasts. He rubbed her clitoris to make it tingle and to distract her from the pain.

When he came, it was profound. He literally saw stars. She felt him buck and arch, stiffening and shuddering as she wrung it out of him. She felt the throb and pulse of his dick, and her arms tightened around him at his ragged cry.

Her shoulder was wet.

Before he unburied his face from her throat, he wiped his eyes. She looked concerned and panicked as she stared up at him, but he kissed her.

“Thank you,” he croaked. He was moved by her trust in him.

“No, thank you,” she corrected him as he disengaged himself and sat up. She rolled up and watched him chuck the spent condom out the window. “Litterbug.”

“Beats my dad finding it in my car,” he shrugged. He gave her a hooded look. “You okay, Bets?” She nodded, then eased toward him and kissed him. He returned it, then pulled her onto his lap, cradling her like she was made of glass.

“I never thought anything like this could happen,” she said. “Not between you an me.”

“Why?” he replied, somewhat miffed as he stroked her hair.

“This was just unexpected. I mean, you live down the street from someone, and you see them everyday, and…I don’t know.” She looked at him pointedly and gave him a sly smile. “You used to pull my pigtails.”

“You always pitched me out when we played baseball,” he retorted. “Give a guy a break!”

“Snowballs, calling me Wetty Betty, flicking frog parts at me during eighth grade biology, reading my notes to Ronnie, snapping my bra straps during sixth grade when I finally got one…” She ticked off points on her fingers until he took her hand and drew her index finger into her mouth. “Wimp!”

“People change,” he insisted. “Look at you.”

“What about me?”

“The Betty I know is a good girl.”

“I’m still a good girl,” she pouted indignantly.

“You’re naked.”

“Look who’s talking,” she murmured into his neck. He stroked her and watched the beach grass blowing over the dunes through steamy windows.

“If you had to be in by curfew, we’d both be dead.”

“You don’t have curfew anyway,” she shrugged.

“My parents keep reminding me that you’re a nice girl,” which he said with a leer and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “So that makes this off-limits.”

“You hate limits.”

“I do,” he nodded solemnly, then gave her a smug grin that she returned.

“Speaking of limits,” she considered, “we’d better get going. I have to get up early tomorrow to help clean up from the party.”

“Then what?”

“Thank-you notes. Renewing the beach sticker on my car. Calling the animal shelter for my schedule when I start work.” Then her voice grew sober. “Giving Ronnie back her stuff.” She felt him stiffen in the dark.

“I don’t know what’s gonna do without you for a friend, Bets.”

“Find someone else to hold her purse and be her personal journal.”

“Archie shouldn’t be in the middle of breaking up your friendship.”

“It wasn’t Arch.”

“Could’ve fooled me, from what I saw at the prom!”

“It was how she treated you that night that cemented my decision.” The silence between them was heavy and charged as she snuggled up beneath his chin. “I know you’ve liked Ron for a long time.” There was no spite in her tone. “I know what it’s like to want to be with someone who takes you for granted.”

“I guess you do.” He was contemplative. “I had fun with her. I had a crush on her since the fourth grade. But it was always so much work! And she still waited at home for Carrot Top to call. And so did you,” he added. She pinched him.

“Lesson learned.” He tugged on her hair to get her to look him in the eye.

“Promise?”

“Girl scout promise."


End file.
